Wishing on Silver Linings
by seeninblue
Summary: The life of a teenager is never easy. The life of a teenager in Beacon Hills is next to impossible.
1. Chapter 1

**WISHING ON SILVER LININGS**

 **CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

When Shay walks into her previously empty room to find two boys arguing on her bed, she isn't at all surprised.

A boy with a buzz cut waves his hands as he whispers loudly to his very annoyed but very amused partner in crime. By the way they hadn't taken off their sweaters or shoes, she knows that they are about to drag her into some sort of mischief. Shay takes a deep breath, counts to ten, and frowns as she closes the door harder than she should have. The two boys on her bed jump to their feet in seconds, both talking a mile a minute over each other. She quickly silences them with a raised hand.

 _These are your best friends, Stiles and Scott_. _You did this to yourself_.

"What the heck are you guys doing here?" Shay hisses, locking the door to her room before getting any closer. "And would you keep it _down_?! My mom is asleep in the other room. You know how thin these walls are."

"Shay!" Stiles grins. "You'll never guess-"

"I probably will," she interrupts.

"-what we're about to do!"

When he doesn't elaborate, Shay rolls her eyes. "You want me to guess, don't you?"

"Yup."

"Ugh, fine. Okay… Is it something spooky? Like a mystery or something?"

Scott nods excitedly from where he is sitting. "That's actually pretty close."

"Well," Shay mumbles," with mystery usually comes murder. Oh my god, are we going to solve a murder?"

"Not _solve_ , my dear Shay, _investigate_. My dad got a call about how two late night joggers found half of a body in the woods! We _gotta_ go check it out." The way Stiles says it, like doing this would make their entire night, has Shay already feeling regret. Leave it to Stiles to rope them into crazy shenanigans like finding a dead boy. Or, well, _half_ a dead body.

She softly nudges her foot against Scott's leg. "And you? I thought you says you wanted your beauty sleep for the big day tomorrow. What if you get tired during practice?"

Scott gives her a sheepish smile and shrugs. "This seemed a little bit cooler than sleeping."

"Wow, what an answer, Scottie."

"So you're coming, right?" Stiles presses. Both boys lean forward as she presses her head against the door.

Shay groans. They are doing it again. And by _it_ , she means the way Stiles and Scott both press their hands together in begging pleas, eyes big and lips pouted. Just the sight of the two of them – sixteen and pouting like ridiculous four year olds – has her laughing as she caves. The first day of school is tomorrow; tonight could be the last time she has any bit of fun. Pushing herself away from her door, Shay puts her ear to the wall of her room. There is no noise from the other side – that means her mom is still asleep. That leaves her plenty of time to sneak out and then sneak back it. Because, really, she knows that they aren't going to be finding a body out there in the woods. Three teenagers fumbling around in the dark? _They'd_ probably end up being the bodies found.

"Fine! But if I get killed, just know that I'm haunting you both."

Stiles gives a thumbs up and Scott laughs at her.

Shay tugs on her sneakers and pull-over sweater, not bothering to change out of her black yoga pants, before shoving them both out of her room. The three of them tiptoe into the living room and out onto the small fire escape, Shay shutting the window behind her. One by one, they slide down the cold, wet ladders and onto the hood of the Jeep. They'd done this a thousand times before – Stiles and Scott climbing up her fire escape with a boost from the hood and forcing her out of the window to tag along on whatever sort of quest they'd be going on that day. Usually, it isn't as late at night, or as cold. Shay pulls her sweater closer to her body right. They can see their breaths in the air, for crying out loud.

"Stiles, I am never forgiving you for dragging me out into the cold wilderness," Shay swears as she and Scott climb into Stile's sketchy jeep after her. To anyone else it would have appeared fine, but Shay knows the truth. The car is running on super glue, duct tape, and a lot of pieces of chewed gum. A death trap on wheels.

"Don't be a killjoy. C'mon, this is exciting! Be excited," Stiles laughs, turning on the Jeep and taking off down the alley they'd parked in.

Stiles and Scott talk about lacrosse all the way to the preserve. Shay doesn't even try and keep up with their fast paced voices, laying herself out on the backseat and wishing she'd brought a thicker sweater. The three of them had all promised to join the team in freshman year and now promised to make first line this year. Well, Scott and Stiles promised to make first line. She managed to get a spot as goalie in the last semester of freshman year after their senior goalie had moves. It had caused controversy between the team – half the team, led by some of the senior players, had says she'd only gotten the position because of her status as the only female there while the other half fought on her behalf and know that she got it because of how fast she is in catching the balls. Scott and Stiles are the two that fought the hardest to let her stay as goalie.

She sits up and reaches to grasp Scott's shoulder and flick Stiles' ear. Scott stops mid-sentence and looks back at her.

"You'll make first line. I know you will, Superman."

Scott blinks at her before flashing her a smile and putting his hand over hers. "Thanks, Wonder Woman."

"Uh, excuse me! What about me, _Batman_? Where's my pep talk, Shay?" Stiles whines, turning into the road that leads into the preserve. Trees surround them and the only source of light is the headlights of the Jeep and the light of the moon. The darkness unsettles her.

Shay pinches his arm as they park, quickly scrambling out of the car to keep from being seen by anyone. "I was talking to both of you, loser."

"Yeah, sure you were!"

Shay pushes him to lead the way. Scott takes a puff of his inhaler before he follows his bickering friends.

"Are we seriously doing this?" Scott asks.

"You're the one that's always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town!" Stiles reminds him, turning on his flashlight. Scott sighs but says nothing.

Leaves crunch under the weight of their footsteps, twigs snapping at random times. Each snap makes Shay jump, nerves winding up tighter and tighter the further they walk into the preserve. Stiles laughs but only rubs her back comfortingly.

"Scaredy cat," he mocks.

"Leave me alone," Shay shoots back with no bite. She helps Scott climb up a hill, pulling him along by the arm. "Hey, Stiles?"

Says boy turns around," Yeah, buddy?"

"Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?"

A moment of silence. "Uh…hadn't thought of that."

"And what if the killer is still out here?" Scott puts in.

"Didn't think of that either."

"Stiles!" Scott curses. "We're out here blind!"

"It's comforting to know you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail," Shay sighs.

As they climb, Scott stops, leaning against the trunk of a tree. He pulls out and shakes his inhaler, taking a quick puff. Shay stands in front of him, fixing his hood. She knows that the cold air is making it harder for him to breathe, what with his asthma. She turns to look at Stiles, who keeps on walking.

"Hey, just a thought, but maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?" she calls. Stiles continues to walk.

She waits until Scott gives her a nod for them to race after their friend. Right when they catch up, Stiles pulls them both down to the dirt by their sweaters. Shay angrily pinches him, but Stiles only points in front of them. Several police officers walk in a row, flashlights flickering all over the place. Dogs bark loudly at their sides.

"Stiles! They have dogs!"

"Yeah, I see that!" Stiles bites out, struggling to shut off his flashlight.

"Now what?" Scott groans.

Stiles grins at them both and then launches himself up on his feet, dashing into the trees.

"Wait, Stiles!" Shay hisses, but he's gone. "God dammit, come on, Scott. We gotta go!"

Shay takes off after Stiles, pulling Scott close to her so they don't lose each other. The police come closer and closer as they run, the barks becoming louder with every step they take. Shay's heart is going crazy in her chest. If they are caught by the police, they'll call her mom. She could already see the anger and disappointment in her mother's young face as she would rub her temples like she always does when she gets stressed. She knows her mom has a lot on her plate as it is: taking care of her while trying to keep them afloat in the small apartment they share. Getting taken into the police station would add a ton of stress that she knows her mom can't really handle. They can't get caught. _She_ can't.

"Stiles!" she tries one more time as he comes back into view.

Stiles turns at the urgent sound of her voice but quickly trips as a bright light and a dog are right in front of him. The dog leaps at him, snapping its sharp teeth at his chin. Shay and Scott both freak and press together behind a tree. Shay's front is pressed to Scott's and she covers his mouth with her hand. She doesn't want anyone to hear his heavy breathing and slight wheeze. Scott looks at her with panicked eyes as a familiar voice brakes through the trees.

"Hang on. This little delinquent belongs to me," comes the tired voice of Sheriff Stilinksi.

"Crap," Shay curses against Scott's ear. He grabs the hand covering his mouth and squeezes.

"Dad, how are you doing?" Stiles says casually. To anyone else, he would seem innocent. Unluckily, Shay knows the sheriff can see through his son better than either her or Scott.

Shay peaks over the tree to see the sheriff staring at his son, hair and jacket wet from the light rain. Stiles fidgets around, clothes a bit muddy from his fall.

"So," starts the sheriff," do you listen in to _all_ my phone calls?

"No," Stiles quickly assures him. At the glare his father gives him, Stiles sighs," Not the boring ones."

The sheriff nods, as if he isn't at all surprised by his son's answer. Of course he wouldn't be; out of everyone that knows how snoopy Stiles gets, the sheriff is the one that knows it best. Shay moves her head back into the shadows of the tree, ear pressed against Scott's shoulder, as the sheriff looks beyond Stiles and into the area that the two of them are hiding.

"And where are your usual partners in crime?"

"Who, Scott and Shay? Scott's home. He, uh, wanted to get a good night's rest before school tomorrow. Shay's having a movie night with her mom. It's just me. In the woods…alone."

 _Smooth, Stilinski, real smooth._

Apparently, the sheriff doesn't seem to think so. He picks up his flashlight and shines it their way. Shay suppresses a gasp by shoving her face in Scott's collar, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Scott, you out there? Is Shannon with you?"

Thunder rumbles above them, drowning out their fast breathing. Scott squirms against her and Shay pinches his side in warning. He instantly stops moving, but his heart keeps racing. Their silence and discomfort pays off; the sheriff puts his flashlight down and turns his attention back to Stiles. With a quick breath, Shay peaks again to see him dragging Stiles away by the back of the neck.

"Well, young man, I'm gonna walk you back to your car, and then you and I are gonna have a talk about invasion of privacy."

Shay watches them go for a while until she is sure there is no one else around. Slowly, she backs away from Scott, taking back her hand and putting some much needed distance between them. Scott pulls out his inhaler and inhales another puff. She can't blame him. Right now, she feels like she needs an inhaler, too. Scott bangs his head against the tree in frustration.

"We have to get out of here," Scott sighs.

"I was following Stiles. I don't know which way is which."

"Then we just retrace our steps," Scott suggests. "Yeah, okay. So they went that way… so that means we go this way!"

Shay doesn't bother arguing, too cold and too nervous to even think of anything better. She jogs to catch up to Scott, who has already begun walking away in a random direction. He holds out his hand for her to take, like he knows her smaller legs can't keep up with him. Later, she promises herself, she'd remind him who the fastest out of their trio is, but right then she just wants to find the main road and go home.

They walk for so long, Shay feels her fingers going numb from the cold. Birds fly over them with every boom of thunder. She is grateful that the storm doesn't completely fall over them yet. Being stuck out in drizzle is one thing – being stuck out in a storm is another.

"Scott, where are we?" she asks, stepping over a large branch.

"Uh, we are walking back to the main road."

"You don't sound so sure."

"Honestly? I'm not."

Shay laughs despite her nerves.

They walk on for a while longer before Scott comes to an abrupt stop. His hand tightens around Shay's as he looks off into the dark. Dread fills every one of Shay's veins, the cold feeling leaving her shivering.

Right as she is about to say his name, a thundering noise came out from in front of them. Dozens of deer race toward them, going at a speed that showed obvious fear. She is on Scott in seconds. Pulling the boy down and covering his head with her arms, Shay bends over his body with her own. Deer jump and run all around them. Some trip over each other in their haste. The sound of their hooves against the ground is like thunder from the oncoming rain – loud and dangerous. Scott holds her tight in panic.

The deer are gone as quickly as they had come. Shay and Scott hold each other shakily as they stand. They stare after the herd as it disappear into the trees behind them.

"W-What in the hell?" Shay breathes. What could have possibly spooked them so bad?

"Oh no."

"What's wrong?"

Scott takes out his phone and flashes the dim light at the ground. "I lost my inhaler."

"Ugh, really, Scott?"

"Hey, we were about to be trampled to death. Not my fault." Scott lets out an irritated grunt, kicking leaves around the ground. "You look over there and I'll look over here."

Shay follows his lead and takes out her own phone. Even with her phone flashlight being brighter than Scott's screen, she can't find it.

"Scottie, I'm not seeing-"

" _Shay!_ "

Scott's startled scream forces her body to run his way, hand reaching out to grab hold of his arm. "What, what?"

The boy stares at the floor in silence. Confused, Shay follows his gaze until she saw it. All the blood in her body runs cold and terror floods her mind.

Because on the ground lays the other half of the body they'd been looking for. The girl's face is blank, eyes wide but hold no life and her mouth hangs open – as if she was screaming before she died. Tears sting the backs of Shay's eyes. The poor girl doesn't deserve this, whoever she is. No one deserves to die like that.

"We gotta go," Shay says. She and Scott step back.

"She-She's...she-" Another step back.

"Scott, we gotta-"

And then they are falling.

Sharp rocks and twigs dig into the skin of Shay's back as she falls backwards down a hill, head hitting the hard ground with a sick thud. Scott falls over sideways in a roll that doesn't sound at all good. Their legs tangle as they go, keeping them close but still has them tumbling down. Seconds later they are finally at the bottom, groaning and cursing. With more effort than either of them have, Shay manages to stand and help Scott to his feet. Her friend wheezes as he mumbles and gasps, clutching onto her sweater.

"We have to tell Stiles," he says between heavy breaths.

"Forget Stiles, we gotta go, Scott! That girl was _ripped in half!_ "

Scott doesn't reply. When Shay looks up from her bloodied hand, he is staring at something behind her. His eyes are round, pupils tiny against his brown irises, and his bottom lip quivers with small sounds coming from his parted mouth. He looks absolutely terrified. She slowly starts to turn her head.

It happens within seconds.

Shay isn't able to turn fully before she is pushed down to the ground. She screams in pain as something digs into her shoulder, something like claws. They yank at her skin, pulling her away, before letting go. Scott is screaming at that point, too. He is thrown where she is dragged, pulling her up and then they are sprinting, feet going a mile a minute. Shay feels herself becoming weaker and weaker with every step, a dizzy feeling fogging up her mind. Her shoulder hurt so badly. But Scott doesn't let her stop running. Not when they hit the road, not even when they are almost run over by a car. He only stops when she finally slipped on the wet pavement of the road, crashing down onto her knees.

"Scott," she struggles to say," just give me a second. I can't- my shoulder-"

Scott kneels beside her and carefully moves the blood soaked fabric of her pull over. Shay lets out a hiss, feeling the torn skin stretch with the movement. Scott looks from her wound to her face.

"I-It doesn't look so bad."

"L-Liar," Shay manages to laugh out.

Scott smiles a little, but it doesn't last long, mouth twisting into a wince. He lets go of her and lifts his own shirt and sweater to reveal large puncture wounds. It looks like a really big bite. Scott carefully pokes around the wounds, whimpering in pain.

"You get bit and I get _stabbed_. How unfair is that?" Shay winces.

A howl fills the silence, coming in all directions of the woods. The sound sends a feeling Shay has never feels before down her spine, forcing her head to look up at the moon. Everything feels – off. But, she reasons, that could just be the blood loss. She hauls herself into a hunched stand using Scott's shoulder to hoist herself to her feet. He steadies her with his hands on her elbows.

"Let's go to Deaton's," she says weakly. "Patch ourselves up there before either of our parents see us."

"Right. Right, yeah." Scott moves her good arm over his shoulders.

The walk to the animal hospital is long and filled with terrified silence. Neither of them speak when they arrive or as Scott patches them up with disinfectant and gauze. All Shay can think about is the sound of the howl.

It hadn't sounded like the call of a wild animal.

To Shay, it had sounded like a laugh.

 **||/\\\||**

It isn't her alarm that wakes Sky the next morning. It is the familiar ringtone of a robotic voice saying "woof, woof" over and over again. Scott is calling.

Shay scrambles for the phone, sliding the answer button as fast as she can, and holds her breath when it finally lets her answer. The other line stays quiet as she settled her breathing.

"Hey," she greets. Her voice shakes a little.

"Hey," Scott sighs. "How's your shoulder?"

Shay rolls her shoulder and hums. "Doesn't really hurt anymore. Guess your time with Deaton really _is_ useful."

"Ha ha," Scott scoffs. "You know Stiles is going to want to see it."

"Of course he is. And you know that when I see Stiles, he's gonna get it."

"Oh, definitely."

They both know that she isn't going to do anything to Stiles. It isn't his fault that the sheriff had found him or that some weird ass animal decided that she and Scott would be its midnight snack. She can't even hold over the fact that it had been his idea to go looking for the body because she could have said no and just stayed home. But, honestly, she knows she could never say no to Stiles. Not when he looked so excited. It is a weakness she is still fighting to overcome.

"I'll be at school in thirty. Wait for me in the front just in case I hurt myself while I hurt Stiles."

Scott laughs. "Alright, meet you at the stairs?"

"You got it." They both hang up.

Her phone vibrates with an alert of a text message. It is from Stiles.

FROM: HAIRY STILES

 _please tell me you didnt bleed out last night while you slept._

Shay can't help but let out a small laugh.

TO: HAIRY STILES

 _still breathing as far as I can tell. youre so going to get it when I see you Stiles._

FROM: HAIRY STILES

 _hurry up and get to school ! I need to know if youre horribly disfigured now._

TO: HAIRY STILES

 _not more than usual . and youre the one that's going to be disfigured !_

FROM: HAIRY STILES

 _just hurry up Shay !_

Shay makes quick work of getting ready, brushing her teeth and pulling up her hair in less time than she usually does. She doesn't bother putting effort into picking an outfit. If she wanted to make a first impression, at least she should be honest. The bandages on her shoulder are going to be hard to hide. Throwing on a pair of black joggers, another old pull over, and her converse, Shay shoves her phone in her backpack and grabs her lacrosse stick before rushing out the door and to the kitchen.

Her mother is waiting there for her. She looks up from where she is skimming through an article on her IPad with a large smile. It is still a little shocking that her mother is only thirty-one years old. Beth Jansen had Shay when she was only fifteen. They practically grew up together, even going to the same pediatrician for a few years. Beth's face is practically wrinkle free, hair still its rich dark color. It is like living with a twenty year old rather than a thirty-one year old. Shay is just glad that she inherited most of her looks from her mother – having the same thick, dark hair, light eyes, and olive skin. What she doesn't inherit is the morning person trait.

"Good morning, sunshine!" her mother sing-songs happily.

"Morning, mom," Shay yawns.

Her mother pushes a bowl already filled with cereal and the carton of milk Shay's way as she sits down, fighting the wince from her hidden injuries. Pouring the milk into the bowl without making a face is hard without her mother pressing her hands to Shay's shoulder in a tight hug.

"First day of your sophomore year! Are you nervous?"

"Not really." All of her fear was used up last night.

"Well," her mother claps," finish your breakfast so that we can go. It would be horrible if we are late on the first day back." Tardiness is always an issue when your mother is the art teacher for your high school.

"Yeah, mom. Absolutely terrible."

 **||/\\\||**

Shay and her mother split up right as they get out of the car. Beth gives her daughter a quick kiss and hug good luck before practically running inside to sign in. Her mother is far too excited for the new school year. Shay spots Scott immediately and jogs over to where he is bent down beside his bike.

"I still don't understand why you don't get a ride from Stiles. Like, riding a bike to school isn't cool."

"If I get a ride from him, I'd have to wake up a half an hour earlier than I do now. Half an hour. Some of us believe in sleep, Shay."

Shay raises her hands in surrender while Scott finishes chaining his bike to the rack. She adjusts her lacrosse stick on her backpack right as a car pulls up next to them. Wait, she knows that car.

 _CRAP!_

"Scott, just act natural, just act-!"

The door opens and promptly smacks against Scott's backpack. Shay feels her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. She takes a deep breath, balls her hands into fists, and gives her best smile as Jackson Whittemore gets out of his Porsche, looking as handsome and as cool as ever. Her heart races and her blood boils with a sort of adrenaline that only Jackson is able to give her. Not even lacrosse has her heart beating as fast or as hard as it does whenever Jackson is around.

The lacrosse captain frowns at Scott with an annoyed look. "Dude, watch the paint job."

Scott blinks at him and then turns to blink at Shay.

 _Okay, be cool, Shay_. "H-Hey, Jackson!"

Jackson looks at her with less of an intense glare. "Jansen." His eyes flick down to her chest. Shay feels the world spin out of control. "A baseball sweatshirt? Coach would be ashamed."

"Well, it _is_ the all American sport. Can't go wrong there."

He doesn't bother answering her, already turning to walk towards his friends.

When he is a good ways away from them, Shay lets out a dreamy sigh and calls out a soft," I love you, too!"

From beside her, Scott rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment. "I still don't get what you see in that guy."

"Dashing good looks, amazing lacrosse skills, and a butt load of money. What's not to love?"

"How about his high and mighty attitude?" Scott suggests.

Shay sends Scott a cheeky smile. "Details, details."

They don't walk far before Stiles jogs over to them. Shay can tell he is excited to see their wounds by the way he bounces on the balls of his feet and glances at their wounded areas. Shay steps toward him with a smile only to bring her fist down hard on his own shoulder, the exact one she'd been scratched.

"Uh, _ow_!"

Shay jabs her finger into his chest with a scoff. "Try feeling that but times twenty!"

Letting out a soft coo, Stiles wraps his arm loosely around her, mindful of her shoulder. "Alright, let's see these fatal wounds you guys keep crying about."

Shay presses her head against his shoulder and watches as Scott lifted up his shirt to show them the bandage on his side. There are a few bloodstains, but it isn't too bad. Stiles pulls away slightly to look down expectantly at her. Shay pulls down the collar of her sweater with a sigh, letting her two best friends stare at her bandage. Stiles lets out an impressed whistle.

"Less blood than I thought there'd be," Stiles says.

"Sorry to disappoint you," laughs Shay.

"Any idea what attacked you guys?"

"It was too dark to see, but I'm pretty sure it is a wolf," Scott supplies easily.

Stiles scrunches up his face in disbelief. "A wolf bit you?"

"It's what he saw," Shay says and pulls them to start walking, the three of them walking in a row together. Teens walk around them, some shooting dirty looks their way for taking up most of the path. Shay meets their glares with smiles.

"No, not a chance," Stiles keeps saying.

"We heard a wolf howling. Like, a really loud howl," Shay insists.

Stiles lets out a laugh. "No, no you didn't."

"Stiles, you weren't there. How do you know what we heard? We both heard it."

"Because," he says matter-of-factly," California doesn't have wolves, okay? Hasn't for like sixty years."

They walk up the stairs to the main entrance doors but Stiles jumps to block them.

Scott glances at Shay and when all she did is shrug looks back to Stiles. "Really?"

"Yes, _really_. There are no wolves in California."

Feeling the tension start to rise, Shay sighs and slumps against Stiles, looking to Scott with dramatic eyes and presses the back of her hand to her forehead. "Just think, Scott. If Stiles doesn't believe us about the wolf, how could he possibly believe that we found the other half of the body? _Woe is we_."

Like she'd flipped a switch, Stiles is spinning her around and looking directly into her eyes. His grin is face splitting. "Are you joking? You better not be joking!" He looks to his best friend for conformation.

Scott shakes his head with a smile, but Shay sees the way his eyes dim a bit, flashes of his terrified expression from last night coming back. "I wish. I'm going to be having nightmares for a month."

Stiles throws his fist in the air and hugs Shay close. "That is friggin' awesome! I mean this is seriously gonna be the best thing that's happened in this town since-" Instantly Shay is thrown from Stiles' arms and into Scott's. They look at each other with raised brows.

"-since the birth of Lydia Martin!" _Oh, that's why_.

"Hey, Lydia! You look-," the redhead walks briskly passed the three of them without even sparing Stiles a glance,"-like you're going to ignore me."

"Woah, pure murder," Shay whispers loudly to Scott. He laughs as Stiles stomps his foot and glares at the two of them.

"You're both the cause of this, you know. Draggin' me down to your nerd depths. I'm now a nerd by association. I've been scarlet nerded by you two."

Shay pats Stiles' back with a smug grin. "Doubtful. At least Jackson spoke to me today. Get on my level, Stilinski."

Stiles repeats her words in a high pitched, whiny voice that leaves both Scott and Shay cackling. Despite what happened last night, nothing feels different. It looks like it is going to be just another boring day in Beacon Hills.

 **||/\\\||**

Shay doesn't have first period with Scott or Stiles, getting stuck with math class while they both went off to English. They separate after a dramatic farewell in front of Scott and Stiles' classroom – Stiles gets down on both knees and vows that they would "only be parted for a short while, my dear one". Shay pinches his nose and gives both boys tight hugs. Shay has to jog to make it to her class just in time for the bell to ring right as she closes the door behind her.

The class is full when she walks in. The only seat available is in the back corner where a brunette girl has her nose buried in a thick book. Great, she is going to sit next to the smart kid that would have her self-esteem plummeting to zero. Shay makes her way to the desk with a polite smile to her teacher. The moment she slips into the chair, the girl beside her jumps, peeking out from behind the pages of her book and the thick, dark frames of her glasses. Shay gives her a small smile. The girl hurriedly looks away as the teacher starts talking.

 _Well, that's odd_.

For the rest of the period, Shay and the girl play a weird game of look-see, glancing at each other and looking away before the other could catch them. The teacher's monotonous voice drones on in the background, leaving Shay restless and sleepy. Tilting her head back, she boldly turns her face to the girl beside her and waits until the brunette looks her way again to send her a friendly wave. The girl snaps her head forward so fast Shay thinks it would fall off. Just as she is about to laugh, loud thudding erupted in her ears. Shay looks away from the girl and covers her ears, glancing around wildly to find the source of the noise. No one else seems to hear what she is hearing – the sound almost like a racing heartbeat. When Shay turns to the girl next to her, she notices how her hand is pressed against her chest and her cheeks are pink.

Is… is she hearing the girl's heartbeat?

"Hey," she whispers, leaning forward to hide behind the person in front of her.

The thudding spikes right as the girl makes eye contact with her. "H-Hello."

Okay, that is weird. That is really, really weird. Shay swallows thickly and manages to keep up a smile with some effort. She can't freak out here. Everyone would think she's a freak. _But if I'm hearing heartbeats, then maybe I am_.

Shay keeps quiet the remainder of the period. She can feel the burn of the girl's stare from time to time, but doesn't make any move to look back at her. Her own eyes are glued to the blank paper on her desk where she should have been writing her math notes.

When the bell rang, it feels like it is ringing right inside of her ears. Shay winces in obvious pain and covered her ears with her hands. She doesn't move until the noise stops. By then, almost everyone is out of the class. Almost.

A body stops right by her desk. "Are you alright?"

Shay looks up into the concerned yet shy eyes of the girl she'd been sitting next to.

"Yeah…yeah, I think so." _I hope so_.

Shay shakes her head and stands, slinging her backpack over her good shoulder as she and the girl make their way out of the classroom. "I'm Shannon Jansen, by the way. But you can just call me Shay."

"M-My name is Margo," the girl – Margo – replies. She doesn't say a last name.

"You look a bit young. Are you a freshman taking sophomore math?"

Margo's face went red. "Uhm, no. I'm a sophomore."

Shay blinks in surprise. But the girl looks so young! "No way, really?"

"Yeah, I-" Margo pauses as her cheeks flush redder and she looks away. "I'm supposed to be a junior but was held back a year."

"Oh, I get you. Failed too many classes? Skipped a bunch?"

"N-No, was just sick a lot."

"That sucks," Shay sympathizes. "So being held back a year. Guess that means you don't have many friends in your classes."

Margo only shrugs, looking at the floor like it would save her. Shay feels for her; if she didn't have Scott or Stiles in any of her classes, she would probably have zero friends. The three of them had been together since middle school when they saw her take a plunge on her skateboard and called an ambulance when it is clear she'd broken an arm. After that, they'd been inseparable. It is clear that Margo doesn't have friends with her.

"Hey, mind if I see your schedule?"

Margo pulls out the folded paper from her messenger bag, handing it over. Shay does a quick scan of it and compares it to her own, having memorized it two days before. If she remembered right, then that means she and Margo share three more classes, and their lunch period. Shay gives the paper back with a grin.

"Looks like you're in luck, Margo! We have classes together. You can thank the high sky for it later, but right now, we need to get to our lockers before the bell."

She doesn't give Margo a chance to respond. Shay grabs the strap of her messenger bag and lead her to her own locker, pushing her math book in and taking her chemistry book out. Margo timidly leads the way to her own locker with the encouragement of a smiling Shay.

Right as they are about to turn the corner, Margo freezes. She flattens her body against the metal of the lockers, panic etched on her face.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Shay asks.

Margo looks at her through the dark of her lashes, but only shakes her head. "N-Nothing."

"Can't be so bad," Shay dismisses, walking around the corner.

Jackson is standing there, smirking at the girl under his arm and the girl she's is talking to. Lydia Martin – girlfriend of Jackson Whittemore since the very start of freshman year. Shay had always envied her looks and position under Jackson's arm, but knows that for all she is, Lydia has a black heart. She doesn't get why either Jackson or Stiles are so in to her. Especially Stiles – he is an amazing, funny, kind person that could do a lot better than Lydia. Shay glances to the right and sees Scott and Stiles – the former staring intently at the stranger with Lydia and Jackson while the latter argues with one of their friends from freshman year.

"Even you know to keep away from them," Shay huffs. "Let's just wait until they leave."

Margo peeks around the corner and doesn't move until Lydia and Jackson tug the other girl away down the hall. The brunette stares after them with an emotion Shay can't really read. She nudges her new friend, snapping the girl out of whatever haze she'd been thrown in.

"C'mon. Let's get your books and we can go to class. Then I can introduce you to my friends."

Margo takes a deep breath and gives a meek nod. The girl seriously has some social anxiety. Shay pats her arm and follows her not too far away from where Lydia and Jackson had been. Stiles and Scott wave her over as she passes them, but Shay only points at Margo and holds up a finger. The boys nod and lean against the lockers, waiting for her.

They grab Margo's books and head straight over, the boys meeting them half way. Introducing Margo to Scott and Stiles goes smoothly. Scott smiles warmly – if a tad distractedly – while Stiles narrows and widens his eyes. It's like he knows her, but if he does, he doesn't say anything.

"Guys," Shay begins," this is my new friend, Margo. She's taking classes with us common folk. Margo, this is Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski."

Margo gives them a shy wave but doesn't say anything else. Her face is partially covered by her red flush and dark glasses.

Stiles takes a step forward and says," What did you say your last name was again?"

Margo opens her mouth to reply as the bell rings overhead. Shay winces at the shrill sound. "C'mon, we get to get to history. Stop being so nosy, Stiles. Let Margo have some mystery to her."

"I prefer to be called curious."

That had Margo laughing quietly, eyes hidden behind her thick black glasses. Shay laughs with her and the four of them hurry to their shared class.

Maybe the day wouldn't be so ordinary.

||/\\\||

After school, Shay invites Margo to go watch the lacrosse practice, but is politely declined. The girl takes one look at their uniforms and starts backing up.

"I-I can't," Margo says. "My dad, he's going to come pick me up and then we have to go out to dinner and-"

Shay quiets her ramblings with a firm hand on her shoulder. "Hey, hey! Relax, it's all good. Lacrosse isn't everyone's thing. At least let me give you my number."

Margo nods, pulling out her ridiculously expensive phone. Shay plugs in her number as well as Scott's and Stiles', handing it back with a wink and a grin. Margo reddens at the boys' names on her contact list but smiles shyly before practically running away. Scott and Stiles call out their goodbyes as they walk toward the lacrosse field, Shay in tow.

"But, Scott, if you get first line, then I'll have no one to talk to on the bench!" Stiles says as they walk on to the field. "Are you really gonna do that to your best friend? Shay practically won't talk to us because she's too cool now."

"Shut it, Stilinski," Shay laughs.

"See! She's already starting to sound like her boyfriend!"

Scott laughs at the two of them, balancing his lacrosse stick over his shoulder. "I can't sit out again. My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This season I'm making first line."

"Yeah, Stiles," adds Shay childishly. Stiles sticks out his tongue at her with a playful shove. She pushes him back and right as they are about to pounce on each other, a loud voice stops them. They pull away from each other hastily as Coach Finstock walk over.

"Jansen," he greets, handing her a regular lacrosse stick. "Get your helmet and get ready to throw some shots."

"On it, Coach!"

His mouth shifts into a serious frown as he looks over to Scott, tossing him a helmet and Shay's goalie stick. "McCall, you're on goal today."

Shay, Scott, and Stiles look at each other in confusion.

"But, I never play," Scott argues.

"I know," says the coach. "Scoring some shots will give the team a confidence boost. It's a first day back thing."

"But Coach-!" Shay yells.

"Jansen, you know if I put you in goalie, you're just going to catch most of the shots. The team needs to get energized, fired up!"

"Well, what about me?" Scott pleads weakly.

"Try not to take any in the face," the coach says dismissively. He gives Shay a quick head pat and then is off screaming encouragements to the rest of the team. Shay turns to Scott, placing both hands on his shoulders. The boy looks down at her and takes deep breaths, glancing up at the stands every few seconds.

"Listen, it's really not that hard. Just watch the ball and move two seconds before they throw it. Simple! You can do this, Scottie."

Scott nods and jogs over to the goal net, looking uncertain and uncomfortable. Stiles jitters and mumbles from where he has taken a seat on the bench. But… Shay could still hear his voice like he is right next to her.

The assistant coach blows the whistle from across the field. Just like that morning, Shay covers her hands over her ears, pain exploding from her ears to her forehead. It feels like she'd been kicked in the face. From where she is crouched in pain, she looks over to Scott, who isn't looking too good either. He is thrashing around, hands on his helmet. It is like he is in the same kind of pain she is. A ball came flying at him, hitting him in the head with a hard smack. Multiple players laugh, even the coach. Shay groans along with Stiles.

Somehow, Shay manages to shake off the pain, tug on her helmet, and get in line to throw. Scott has gotten back up from where he'd fallen to the ground. He looks ready this time, bouncing his weight from one leg to the other. One of the first liners runs at him, throwing the ball to the side. Scott catches it like it is nothing.

"Holy-" Stiles gasps from his seat on the bench.

"-shit!" Shay finishes, just as amazed.

It is like a domino effect after that. One by one, the team gives their best throws, each one being blocked by Scott. Stiles' cheers get louder and louder with every catch, the crowd behind him cheering with him. Shay calls out her own encouragements, ready to try her hand at tossing. Right when it is her turn, Jackson stands in front of her, his lacrosse stick blocking her way. His eyes are hot with anger and his muscles are tense. She doesn't even need to try and zone in to hear his heart beat, thudding with the challenge.

"Jackson?" she asks, tilting her head up slightly to look at him.

"Let me try," he growls. It isn't a request, but a demand. Shay doesn't try to fight him on it.

Everyone tenses as Jackson takes off, running with precision skill. Shay hears Scott's soft "oh god" and whispers out her own," You got this, Superman." Then Jackson launches the ball straight to the net, the object flying faster than anyone else's. Shay holds her breath as Scott moves, only to let it all out in a hysterical scream when Scott catches it. The stands go wild.

"That's my friend!" Stiles hollers.

"Alright, my turn," Shay declares. Two players behind her pat her back and shoulders encouragingly. The wound on her shoulder doesn't even so much as ache.

Shay scoops a ball into the net of her stick, sends a thumbs up Scott's way, and then is off. In a blur of seconds and sound, Shay runs left but swerves right, twisting her stick and throwing the ball to the goal. In her change of directions, Shay slips, falling and rolling to the ground. The sound of tearing and snapped knots makes her look up. She meets Scott's surprised eyes.

He holds up his goalie stick for her to see. There is a hole in the middle of it, strings torn and snapped. She looks behind Scott to see the ball resting in the net of the goal. What the-

The team is on her in seconds, the coach right behind them. They cheered and pick her up to her feet in their excitement. The coach grabs her helmet in his hands as he smiles. "Where the hell did that come from?!"

Shay looks to Scott, who is pulling off his helmet and smiling at her like she'd just done something amazing. She smiles back but freezes when she hears a curse from somewhere far off. Her eyes searches for the source, only to find Jackson glaring at her and Scott with an intensity that leaves an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

"I don't know," she finally answers the coach. "I don't know."

||/\\\||

Scott insists that they go back to the preserve to find his missing inhaler. Stiles agrees with minimal complaints, still hyped from practice. Shay doesn't say much, head stuck in a fog of worry. What is happening to her? And if something is happening to her, is it happening to Scott also? She knows he'd been practicing all summer, had been there to help him practice herself, but – a week before today, he hadn't been that good. Neither had she. The speed she'd gone at is scary, too fast to be normal for her. It had been like the world had slowed down for her.

"Right, Shay?"

Shay snaps up from her thoughts, looking to the voice that calls her name. Scott watches her with expectant eyes.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said don't you think it's weird that I can smell the gum in Stiles' pocket. Like, the smell isn't even that strong when you put it to your nose!"

Shay sniffs the air. A sweet, minty smell fills her nose in a way that should have calmed her nerves, but instead has her blood running cold. "Is it mint mojito?"

"So it's happening to you, too?" Scott says hopefully.

"Today the bell and whistles were killing me. It was like a drill in my ear every time they went off."

"See?" Scott says to Stiles.

"So all this started with the bite," Stiles asks doubtfully.

Shay rubs her shoulder. "Scratch in my case."

"What if it's like an infection? Our bodies are flooding with adrenaline before we go into shock or something?"

The thought of getting an infection from a random animal makes Shay shiver in disgust. Stiles hums and rubs his chin thoughtfully. "You know, I think I have heard something like that."

"You _have_?" Shay asks, stopping them.

"It's a specific kind of infection," he says seriously. "I think it's calls lycanthropy."

" _Stiles!"_

"What's that?" Scott asks in horror. He looks from Stiles to Shay. "Is that bad?"

Stiles nods with hands on his hips. Shay rolls her eyes at him and crosses her arms, wondering how long he is going to torment their friend. Knowing Stiles, he would probably let Scott go years without telling him the truth. Lycanthropy – is he serious?

"Oh yeah. It's the literal worst. But only once a month."

Scott scrunches up his nose. "Once a month?"

"Yeah," Stiles says," on the night of the full moon." He gives a weak howl for emphasis. Scott shoves him Shay's way and she shoves him back. Stiles only laughs at their annoyed expressions.

"Hey, you're the ones that says they heard a wolf howling."

"There could be something seriously wrong with us!" Scott cried.

"I know !" Stiles laughs. "You guys are werewolves!" When neither Scott nor Shay laughs along with him, Stiles raises up his hands in surrender. "Obviously I'm kidding… But, if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it's because Friday's a full moon."

Scott just shakes his head, leading them a few more feet forward before stopping to look down at the ground. "I could have sworn this is it. The deer came at us, we saw the body..." He looks to Shay with a confused and worried expression.

"Yeah, Scottie. It was right here."

Her confirmation doesn't ease his worry.

"Maybe the killer moved the body," Stiles sighs, hands on his hips.

"If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like eighty bucks."

Shay ruffles his hair. "If you can't find it, we'll round up some money for a new-" A sudden shivering sensation ran up and down her back, starting at the base of her neck to the bottom of her spine. Her hairs feels like they are standing on end. Shay whirls around, fingers curled into fists, and almost jumps out of her skin at the sight of a man. He is tall, dark hair and eyes, with a leather jacket that makes his entire aura far more threatening that it should have. She backs up into Scott and Stiles. Scott is up on his feet and Stiles holds her slightly behind them, hand tight around hers.

"What are you doing here?" the stranger demands, walking toward them. "This is private property."

"Uh, sorry, man. We doesn't know," Stiles quickly says.

"We are just looking for something," Shay puts in, instantly regretting it when the man's eyes lock on to her.

The man's frown only get deeper. He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and tosses Scott's inhaler to them. The three of them stare as he walks off. Something about the lingering look he sends them makes Shay hold on just a little tighter to Stiles' hand. It's like he knows something – like maybe he knows that they were there in the woods last night. For a brief second, Shay could only think of the monster that had attacked them. She quickly lets the thought go. He is more likely to be the killer than the monster. She isn't sure which thought is more terrifying.

"Who is that?" she breathes out.

"Derek Hale," Stiles says. "He's only a few years older than us. His family burned in a fire, like, ten years ago."

"Six-ish," Shay mumbles. "I remember."

Scott licks his lips nervously. "I wonder what he's doing back."

Stiles says nothing. He stares in the direction Derek had stormed off in, eyes narrowed but bright with curiosity. Shay wants to know what he is thinking – wants to know what sort of scenarios are being cooked up in that overactive brain of his. They must have be not so great, judging by the way his mouth turns down. Shay tugs at his hand until he looks away from the woods and back down at her.

"Scott and I need to go to work," she reminds him.

Scott smacks his palm to his forehead. "Oh my god, I almost forgot."

"Hey, don't get your panties in a twist. I'll give you guys a ride," Stiles says.

The three of them walk just a little faster back to Stiles' Jeep. The woods feel colder now, with the looming presence of a missing body, a mysterious beast, and now a moody stranger. One who makes everything in Shay's body tense up in fear.

 **||/\\\||**

Work at the video store is as slow as ever. Shay revels in the quiet and slow pace of her shift, for once not caring about the ugly carpet and wall colors or about her weird co-worker that she caught staring at her sometimes. Today, he stays in the backroom, leaving her to mind the front cash register alone. With no one coming in and no co-worker creeping her out, Shay figures that work would end up on a good note.

Then her shift ends and she goes to the restroom to change out of the thick, ugly shirt she had to call her uniform. The tape of the bandages catches on to the fabric as she pulls the shirt up, coming off with it. Shay immediately winces, her skin pulling with the bandages. She carefully manages to get the shirt off without tugging at her bandages anymore, twisting toward the mirror to see if she had agitated the wound.

She sees nothing but smooth skin.

It is like ice water being poured over her head. Ignoring the stinging pain as she rips the rest of the bandages off, Shay leans in close to the mirror, eyes frantically blinking – like maybe her vision is going and she is seeing things. Nothing. There are no scratch marks, no blood, no torn flesh. It is as if she hadn't been scratched at all, as if last night hadn't happened. Breathing suddenly becomes impossible. Her eyes flit around the restroom, the world blurring together from her unshed tears. Shay sinks to her knees with a hand on her shoulder, the other clasped around her throat as she gasps for air.

The scratch – the heartbeat in her ears – the way her body moves in practice – the strange alertness in the woods – the missing scratch wound. Nothing fits together. _None of it makes sense_.

 _What's happening? What's happening to me?_

[ **A/N** : Thanks so much for getting all the way down here! I've been dying to write an OC story for teen wolf for ages, and now I have the time. I hope you don't mind two OCs, I couldn't decide who I wanted to write about so I figured por que no los dos. A reminder: this is not a Jackson/OC or even a Jackson/OC/Stiles fic. Read and review!]


	2. Chapter 2

**Wishing on Silver Linings**

 **CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

Waking up the next morning is difficult. Her alarm clock rings for five minutes straight, blaring into her ear from where it shakes on her nightstand. The sound is extremely loud; she can feel the vibrations of it in her ears, pulsing wildly. Shay doesn't move – laying perfectly still, she stares at the ceiling and feels the vibrations of the sound pound in her ears. It has never sounded like that before. Never.

Her mother gets her out of her head, rushing into the room with a cup of juice in one hand and an ice pack in the other. She takes one look at the pitiful sight of her only daughter and immediately loses her smile. She puts down the mug on the nightstand and presses the ice pack on top of Shay's stomach. For a second, Shay is lost to her mother's affection. _Oh right_ , she realizes, _I'm faking a fever_. Her mother feels her forehead with the back of her hand.

"Oh, you're still warm," her mother worries aloud. "You sure you don't want me to call in sick?"

"I'm fine, mom. Really, it'll be worse for you if you stay."

Her mother gives a reluctant nod. She brushes Shay's wild, dark hair back gently. "If you need anything at all, call me. The aspirin and Tylenol are in the medicine cabinet, and I've left you two water bottles on your dresser. Drink your juice and then I'll go."

Shay does her best to smile as she forces the entire glass of juice down. The taste is so intense, she almost gags twice. She isn't surprised that even her taste buds have become oversensitive. Everything is out of wack – she can smell the sweet plum perfume her mother is wearing and hear the upstairs neighbor's dog scratching at the carpeted floor. Now, apparently, she can taste every bit of pulp that is in her glass, taste the fresh skin of the fruit before it was peeled. Shay holds back another gag right as she finishes the last of it. Beth pecks her forehead and waves as she leaves the room, giving one last reminder about calling.

"For anything," she says, stern.

"For anything," Shay repeats, already turning on her side to stare at her wall and pretend to sleep.

She doesn't move again until she can no longer hear the click of her mother's heels, even after she's left their apartment. Once she is sure that her mother is in the elevator, Shay presses her nose into her pillow and lets out a weak sob. From there, her cries only escalate – lone tears erupting into a waterfall, her throat tight from the broken noises she can't help but make. It feels wrong to cry – she has developed superhuman abilities overnight that so many other people would kill for and here she is, blubbering into her pillow like a toddler.

It's just that –

Today is the day that it is determined who is makes first line on the team. And she isn't going to be there for practice, to show the coach that she is still as good as last year. That he hadn't made a mistake in making the only girl on the team the goalie. Now some boy is going to take her spot and she would have to be stuck on bench, away from the game and back to the bottom. She can already see it: the whispers, the glances, everything she would never notice before now heightened. "See her," they'd say. "The only girl on the team and she's benched. Figures, since this is a boy's sport."

The ache in her chest only grows at the thought. She can't even call Scott or Stiles. They'd worry and try to visit her at home, skipping out on practice all together just to check up on her. Scott had worked too hard to just skip out. He needs to make first line. Shay knows that better than anyone – even better than Stiles. She'd stayed up late into the summer nights helping Scott catch and throw and dodge and block. They'd shared bruises and scratches and even a sprained ankle on Scott's part. Whatever she is going through, Scott is, too. Only he is taking it in stride, using his new abilities like nothing. The dude had even gotten a date! He had texted her some time the night before in all caps and multiple spelling errors about his run in with a girl named Allison at the vet's and how they were going to a party together. She'd sent him back an enthusiastic reply, and then promptly threw her lacrosse stick against the wall. It hadn't broken, thank goodness, but it did leave a dent.

And Stiles – she can't go to Stiles about this. The boy is a good friend, the best even, but he isn't so great at soothing tears. Especially female tears. Something about seeing Shay cry leaves him frazzled, stumbling and fumbling for solutions. She's known this since they first became friends, way back in middle school when she was screaming and crying because she'd just broken her arm. Scott had rubbed her back and helped her walk to the nurse's office. Stiles had freaked, ran around like a headless chicken, and tripped on himself. When they showed up at the nurse's office, it was with Scott holding a sobbing Shay and blood pouring from where Stiles' nose had connected with the ground. Needless to say, the boy isn't a pro at comforting.

So Shay lets herself cry until the tears finally stop and sleep takes over. It's a restless sleep, but sleep none the less. She wakes up again to the small chime of her phone. It's such a tiny sound, muffled from the thick blanket above it, but Shay hears it loud and clear. Tears build up at the corners of her eyes again but she brushes them away and sits up to answer her phone. There's more than just one text on her notifications.

FROM: MANGO MARGO

 _are you coming to math today?_

FROM: SCOTTIE DOESN'T KNOW

 _Hey where r u ? r u comin 2 skool?_

FROM: HAIRY STILES

 _Get to school, I got spooky news_

A heavy feeling falls on her shoulders. She answers Margo's text with a quick ' _sorry I didn't show up to keep you company'_ but hesitates in answering the boys. What was she going to tell them? They would know if she was lying. They always know. There was a time when she tried to keep her crush on Jackson a secret and Stiles saw right through it, throwing a hissy fit and raving about how she'd gone to the "dark side". He'd found out by just observing her smile patterns – _her smile patterns_.

But, she figures a weird text is better than no text at all.

TO: SCOTTIE DOESN'T KNOW

 _Not feeling too hot. Got a fever (lmao the irony)_

That doesn't sound too bad.

TO: HAIRY STILES

 _Not going to school today. What's the news?_

That isn't so bad, either.

Shay lets out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding and slumps against her headboard. She glances at the clock and figures that they would be in lunch by now. Hopefully they won't see her texts until the end of the day. It is exhausting just thinking about school – all the sounds and smells, different scents and heartbeats crammed into one building. The coach's whistle still rings in her head. Yup, she is never going back.

For the remainder of her day, Shay does nothing but fall in and out of sleep. At one point her mom calls to see if she is still alive, to which Shay tiredly assures her she is. Margo texts her _I wrote your notes for you. Get well soon_. which is sweet. Stiles and Scott have yet to reply. Shay is more relieved than she is hurt. If they aren't replying that means they are keeping busy and not in some sort of predicament. She considers that a win. Nothing bad is happening to anyone else, just her. Somehow, that makes everything a little more okay.

Shay doesn't wake up again until she feels hot breath on her cheek and instantly she is up and moving, slamming whoever it is that is close to her down to the floor. She feels a throat in her hands and can hear a wild heartbeat, _scared scared scared_. She knows that heartbeat. How can she know a heartbeat?

"Stiles?" Shay asks as her vision clears. From under her, Stiles nods frantically, his hands up by his head in surrender.

"Oh my god, Stiles!" She pulls him up by his collar, hugging the lanky boy close. "Stiles, I'm so sorry."

Stiles mumbles into her shoulder, holding her just as tightly. How could she have done that, to Stiles of all people? What good are these new abilities if she is just going to hurt people with them? With fresh tears in her eyes, Shay pulls back to inspect Stiles' head. She can't smell any blood.

"I don't know what's happening to me, Stiles," she finally confesses brokenly. "I-I can smell and hear things that no one should be able to smell and hear. Tasting anything is like seeing its entire food process and I can-… I can hear your _heartbeat_ , Stiles. I can hear it like it's inside my head. And the dog upstairs, I just- I want to-… the dog, I can't believe I want to hurt the dog!"

By then she is full on crying again. It makes her so angry that she is doing it in front of Stiles, but she doesn't know what else to do. Shay bows her head low and grips the front of Stiles' shirt, not caring that she is still on top of him. Meeting his eyes is impossible, because she knows that what she is saying is ridiculous and freaky. She sounds like a total mutant, like something straight out of the X-Men or something. In another universe, that would've been cool. But not in this one.

"I know you d-don't believe that th-there is anything wrong with me and Scott but-"

Stiles sits up then, pushing himself up on his elbows and shaking his head. Their faces become so close, Shay can see the slight twitch below his left eye.

"No, no. Shay, I believe you. Shay, I know what's happening to you."

Shay blinks and gives a sarcastic scoff, climbing off him and leaning against her bed. Her face feels tight her stuffy nose and achy eyes. "Oh yeah, and what's that?"

"You're changing," he says seriously. "Your heightened senses, your urge to kill. It all happened after…" Stiles' gaze falls onto her shoulder, where her shirt has slanted and is revealing her bare skin. She fixes it quickly, rubbing the muscle.

"The scratch," she finishes for him.

Stiles move to sit beside her, shoulder to shoulder. Shay leans against him. Stiles doesn't say anything for a little while, playing with his fidgeting fingers and looking aimlessly around her room. It's like he's seeing it for the first time. At one point Shay floats off into her own head, ears instinctively listening in on the heartbeat next to her. It's no longer scared, just a little jumpy. She doesn't blame Stiles for being anxious; she'd just attacked him, for heaven's sake.

"I'm going to tell you something," Stiles begins suddenly," and I want you to promise to hear me out."

"Okay," Shay agrees, much too tired to do anything else.

Stiles takes a breath, then says," I think you and Scott are turning…into werewolves."

Shay doesn't respond right away, soaking in the information. A werewolf – Stiles thinks she's turning into a werewolf. All she can think about is his pathetic howl from the other day, his dismissive laughter at them saying how they saw a wolf. She glances at Stiles and finds him staring back, nervous but serious. He – he really _believes_ it.

"The results came back from LA. The DNA they found on the first half of the dead body matched an animal. A _wolf_."

If Stiles says anything else after that, Shay can't be too sure. Her ears fill with white noise as she stares down at her hands, imagines them curling into hairy paws with yellow claws. She can't see it. All she sees is her own hands, a bit rough from lacrosse but otherwise human. _How did this happen_ , she asks herself for what seems like the hundredth time. Something in her believes Stiles, though. Something inside of her keeps saying "he's close! He's close!" Like werewolf isn't quite the answer. But what else could it be? Shay tilts her head up and looks to her ceiling, up at the stick-on glow in the dark stars.

"I'm a werewolf," she whispers.

Stiles tilts his own head back. "Yeah. Yeah, you are. Or will be."

"Will be?" she asks, turning his way.

He nods solemnly. "Tonight's the full moon."

Tonight. But that means-

"Scott!"

Shay is standing before she realizes it, tossing her covers around and pushing at her pillows in search for her phone. Stiles quickly rises and grabs her arm.

"Hey, hey! I already told him." A dark look clouds Stiles' usually bright eyes. "Tried to, anyway. He won't listen. He's going to go to that party whether we warn him or not."

"Stiles, he could hurt somebody. He could hurt himself!"

"I know! Don't you think I know that? But he won't – _listen_ – _to_ – _me_."

Shay runs her hands through her tangled hair, pulling at the base of her skull in anger. Of course Scott wouldn't believe Stiles. Shay was having a hard time understanding why she believes Stiles, but he's the only lead she has to what's going on with herself – what's going on with her _and_ Scott. It wasn't just her, like she thought it was. Her awareness isn't a weakness – Scott's ignorance is. Shay taps her foot and bites her lip, thoroughly regretting ever meeting the two boys. She turns and looks Stiles directly in the eye, feeling her stomach sink.

"Guess who's gonna have to crash a party."

Stiles face twists into a confused look that slowly melts into realization.

 _Now comes the hard part_ , Shay mentally sighs: finding a way to go without her mother knowing.

 **||/\\\||**

Her mom comes home ten minutes after Stiles leaves. She'd stopped to get Chinese food and got stuck in traffic. Shay smiles at her and tells her it's more than fine, eyes lingering on the slightly open window.

They eat in one-sided silence. Beth goes on and on about her day at work, laughing at all the silly art doodles her students had turned into her. Shay smiles at the sight of her mother laughing, glad to know she suspects nothing. She isn't sure at all about how she's going to sneak past her mother to the fire escape. Her mother doesn't go to bed until eleven. The party starts at ten. Shay forces another smile and a small laugh at something her mother says. How the hell is she going to do this?

When nine-thirty rolls around, Shay yawns loudly. Her mother looks up at her from where they are sitting on the couch and smiles. "Why don't you go to bed, hmm? You're going to need your rest if you want to get better."

Shay sends her a sleepy smile. "Anything you need before I go to bed? I feel like if you try to wake me up, I won't."

Her mom laughs with a shake of her head. "No, you're good to go." She leans to peck her cheek. "Night, kiddo."

"Night, mom."

Shay shuffles down the hall to her room, only dropping the sleepy façade once she's locked her door. Instantly, she's pulling off her pajamas and pulling on different clothes. Black jeans and a white shirt seem good enough. She pulls on her shoes and tugs on her jacket, mindful of the cold outside. Grabbing her phone before opening her window, Shay lets out an audible gulp. She can't believe she's doing this. In the alley below, Stiles' jeep waits patiently.

"Do it for Scott," she chants. "Do it for Scott."

Then she's out of her window and dangling from the edge, feet tucked on the thin ledge _. Do it for Scott, do it for Scott, do it for Scott_. Shay grips the wall and shuffles to the other window, trading her room's window ledge for her mother's. She is so close to the fire escape, just a few more feet.

The light in her mother's room turns on.

 _Screw it!_

Shay legs go and falls, twisting around in the air. She reaches out and grabs hold of the fire escape, wincing as her body whips in the air as she dangles from the edge. She did it – she's alive!

Wasting no time, Shay climbs over the railing and slides down the rest of the way, letting out a loud sigh of relief once her boots touch the hood of Stiles' car. He visibly jumps when she lands not so gracefully on the hood. She gives him a sheepish smile and slides into the car.

"Just drive," she tells him before he can complain.

Stiles grumbles but does as she says.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

The house is full by the time they arrive. People are flooding the lawn and flowing inside via the front door. There are girls in short dresses, boys in tight shirts, people swarming different sections of the house, from what she can see through the curtained windows. It's a bit intimidating, if Shay is being honest.

"How are we going to find Scott in all of this?" she asks Stiles from where they are parked across the street.

Stiles drums his fingers against the steering wheel. "No idea. Think you can hone in on him with your spidey-senses?"

"That's only for danger, Stiles," Shay snips back. She opens the door and gets out, Stiles right on her heels.

They walk across the street and enter the house without any trouble. Some people from school say hi to Shay, waving enthusiastically and shoving their drinks up in the air like trophies. Shay only smiles in return, pushing against the current of bodies in her way. Stiles follows closely behind her, fingers loosely holding on to her jacket. Shay would offer him her hand, but she heard Jackson would be here. Even if he is with Lydia, the idea of him thinking she's taken doesn't sit well with in her stomach.

They don't find Scott anywhere in the house. Not upstairs in the awkward make out rooms and not in the bathrooms-slash-other-make-out-rooms. She and Stiles trade grimaces with every couple sucking face they stumble upon. But no sign of Scott. With every minute that they are there, the pressure between Shay's eyes grows. She can feel something tingle down to the very marrow of her bones, aching and shifting. It's terrifying. She grabs onto Stiles' wrist and pulls him close so that he can hear her over the too loud music.

"Stiles, we need to find him. Something's happening and I-…I don't know how much longer either of us has."

He gives her a concerned once over and nods. They leave the stuffiness of the house and go out into the backyard. The music isn't as loud out here, but there's more people. Knowing that trying to get through the horde of teenagers will only waste time, Shay lets in a deep inhale, holding it in her nose. That's when she smells it.

Shay sniffs the air again, leaning in the direction of the scent. It's pungent and thick, familiar yet strange. It's Scott – it has to be. Her eyes zoom in on the crowd, hopping from face to face until they land on the mop of wavy hair in need of a trim. And when her eyes find him, his find hers. The look in his puppy-like eyes is desperate and afraid as he stumbles away from Allison and into her awaiting arms. Allison looks at them with confusion, clearly hurt at the sight of Scott leaving her for another girl. Shay really wishes she could explain, but Scott is sweating buckets in her arms and by the looks of the moon and the way her knees begin to tremble, Shay is well on her way to being in the same state.

"Your car, Scott," Shay begs as she guides them out of the house. Too many people try to talk to them on their way out, distorting everything and getting in the way. It feels like her ears are made of cotton and their voices are under water. At one point, she loses Stiles in the fray, but keeps pushing onward, Scott in her arms. Shay shakes herself out of the haze and pulls Scott up from where he has almost collapsed.

"Scott!"

"O-Over there. It's over there."

By some miracle they both get in, Shay in the driver's seat and Scott breathing heavily beside her. Shay sees Allison run their way. Guiltily she pushes the key into the ignition and drives off. She watches as Allison becomes smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. She hopes that the girl can forgive Scott – can forgive _her_.

"W-What's happening?" Scott mumbles, shivering in his cold sweat.

"Transformation," Shay bites out. Something in her jaw snaps and she almost swerves off the road. She runs her tongue along her teeth and feels the sharp points of…fangs. _Fangs_. Her foot presses harder on the gas. They don't have time, they don't have time.

When they do manage to pull up to Scott's house, the windows are dark.

"M-My mom…she has a shift tonight," Scott says.

Good. She doesn't have to see her son and his best friend turn into monsters.

They rush up to Scott's room, tripping and falling on the stairs. Shay's t-shirt and jacket stick to her skin, tossing them off when they get into Scott's room. Scott throws himself into the shower right away, groaning the entire time. Shay falls on his bed and curls up in a ball, feeling an ache ripple through her body. She's never known pain like this. Not even when she broke her arm. It is like her skin is trying to shed. Another pulse sweeps through her, forcing Shay to gasp in pain.

It's happening. They're changing into monsters – into _werewolves_.

Scott stumbles out of the shower, shirtless with wet pants. He falls at her side, reaching to touch her hand. It feels like hot iron against her oversensitive skin, the heat of his body burning. Shay lets him hold her anyway. Who knows if they'll both survive this.

There's an urgent pounding at the bedroom door. A familiar fluttering heartbeat.

"Scott? Shay! Open up, it's me."

Scott doesn't open the door fully, just a crack. Shay is grateful; she doesn't want Stiles anywhere in here.

"L-Listen," Scott pants," you gotta find Allison."

Stiles pushes harder against the door. "She's fine! I saw her get a ride from the party. Shay, you in there?"

"S-Stiles…" she manages weakly. Stiles only fights Scott harder to open the door.

"I know who it is," Scott babbles.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"It's Derek! Derek Hale is the one that bit us – he's the one that killed the girl in the woods."

Stiles stops fighting. "Scott… Derek was the one that drove Allison from the party."

It happens so quickly, Shay can't keep up in her pained state. One second Scott is by the door, the next he's out the window. Stiles continues to bang on the door, hard slams pounding into Shay's ears. She weakly calls for Scott but he's already gone. Claws pop from her fingernails and she can feel her ears elongate. Her mouth pulls in a weird way, reshaping itself for her new teeth. Everything hurts so, so much. Shay twists on the bed and stares at the moon as a roar reaches her from all the way outside.

 _Scott_.

It's instinctual, how her head tosses back as she lets out her own roar, higher and distinct. It doesn't sound at all like the one outside. They both sound powerful and chaotic, desperate for something. They mix together, one dominant over the other but not quite. She can feel it through her skin and in her bones. Stiles pounds on the door as Shay's mind begins to fog. She can hear his own cry, pleading for her to open the door.

"Go away, Stiles! Before I-" There's a snap somewhere in her body, and she lets out another roar.

"Shay, I can help you, please!"

"I won't hurt you… I can't hurt you, Stiles." Her voice sounds different, darker, hungry. Shay forces herself to her feet and toward the window. She has to get away before he does anything drastic. Stiles' voice cracks with fear and that's all she needs to hear right as her mind slips. She's out the window, towards the moon and into the woods.

 **||/\\\||**

She doesn't follow the heavy scent of wolf as she runs through the woods. Instead, her eyes dart up to the moon. In the rough haze she's been thrown in, the moon looks like the light at the end of a very wild, very dark tunnel. She follows its shine as it leads her further and further into the preserve. The points of her ears flick at the sound of _wolfscottfriendwolf_. It only serves to make her run faster. She doesn't want to see him, knowing deep down that the urge to fight will burst out of her like a dam. He's a werewolf; for some reason, the thought of the word _wolf_ makes her snarl out, snapping her fangs at the wind as she twists into the trees. The woods feel safe and like home – but they aren't safe and they aren't her home.

The moon leads her all the way to a house. It's old and crumbling, the lingering scent of ash and tears seeped down deep into the earth. An invisible pull forces her forward to the porch. Waves upon waves of power wash over her like ghosts – cold and ever present. The door creaks when she pushes it open. The inside is just as horrid looking as the outside.

Burnt wood and burnt metal is all she can smell. The house is cold; there is no living presence, no aura whatsoever. The hairs on the back of her neck and her arms stand on end as she climbs the stairs. It feels like she's been here before. Almost like-

Noise from farther into the woods startles her, making Shay growl and snap her teeth at nothing. She runs from the house, ignoring the sense of familiarity of it. Her senses are exploding with the woods. It's overwhelming.

All Shay can think about is running, running to the heart of the woods, running after the moon. Running to find it.

Whatever ' _it'_ is.

 **||/\\\||**

Her mind comes back to her at the first light of dawn.

Shay wakes up from the feral fog that had clouded her mind and finds herself curled against a damp log, a tiny stream passing by her feet. She's still shirtless and her pants are dirty, ripped at the knees and ankles.

When she finds Scott, he's walking alongside the main road. The roads are clear of any cars or trucks, so it's just them out there. Scott isn't wearing a shirt or any shoes, holding his arm like it hurts. He doesn't hear her walk beside him until she steps right in front of him. The way he jumps would have been funny if he didn't look genuinely scared. Shay opens her arms and Scott hurriedly crowds in between them, letting out soft little noises that aren't quite sobs. Shay rubs his back and tries not to cry herself. She's feeling everything all at once – fear, anger, sadness, confusion, _fear_. She knows Scott is feeling the same, maybe even more so, with his new object of affection and placement on the team. Shay doesn't blame him for trembling like he is, packed full of emotions and power neither of them know what to do with.

"We're gonna be okay, Scottie," she says to him, but mostly to herself. "All we have to do is stick together – me, you, and Stiles. We'll be okay."

Scott nods against her shoulders. They stand like that for who knows how long after, just two very lost and very scared kids holding onto each other for dear life. Scott doesn't cry like Shay expects him to; it isn't surprising that he doesn't. Scott's never been much of a crier – not even when his mom left his dad or when he got his asthma attacks. It's always Shay crying and Scott's there to comfort her while Stiles tries (and fails) to help in the background. She thinks maybe she should hate Scott for that, for always being the strong one. Hopefully with these new-found abilities, she could be the strong one for once.

When the finally let go of each other, they start walking. It's aimless and they have no real destination but Shay doesn't want to go home just yet. Scott doesn't protest, just let's Shay lead him by the hand. The sun does start to rise at one point. She frowns at the brightening sky but doesn't make to head home. She asks Scott about his arm instead. He shows her the wound, a dime sized hole now, but he says it used to be round like a penny.

"What happened to you?" Shay demands.

"Caught up with Derek Hale. And some hunters."

"Like…werewolf hunters?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Shay pauses. "Derek Hale."

"It's complicated."

"Scott- "

The familiar rumble of Stiles' jeep has them both stopping to turn. Shay smiles in relief as the blue jeep drives their way. He'd been looking for them. The gesture leaves her chest feeling tight and warm. Stiles opens the door as he parks beside them and goes to say something, but stops at the sight of Shay and Scott's linked hands. Shay raises an eyebrow at him. Stiles glances at their hands one more time before pushing back the passenger seat and letting Shay slip in the back. Scott hops in after her, silently accepting the jacket Shay finds in the car and hands to him. It stays quiet for a good ten minutes before Scott shifts to look back at Shay with sad eyes.

"You know what actually worries me the most?"

Stiles huffs from behind the wheel. "If you say Allison, I'm gonna punch you in the head."

Scott ignores him and groans. "She probably hates me now."

"No, she doesn't," Shay sighs.

"But you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology," Stiles cuts in," or you could tell her the truth and, you know, revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you guys are freaking werewolves!"

He gets nothing but silence from the two, meeting Shay's unimpressed stare from the rearview mirror. "Okay, fine."

"Stiles, this is serious," Shay chides. "We turned into monsters last night. We could have hurt someone. Hell, Scott went bonkers the second you said Allison's name."

"You went _bonkers_ , too, Shay," Stiles argues back. "And I _am_ taking this seriously! There are serious thoughts of keeping you guys locked up and feeding you both mice!"

Shay laughs at the sincerity of Stiles' whines and lets her head drop to lie against his shoulder as he drives. It's a surprise when he puts his cheek over her head but she doesn't say anything, just lets him drive her and Scott back to Scott's house. There, they both shower and dress, Scott giving her clothes she'd left there over the years.

"You actually kept these here?" Shay asks, pulling one of Scott's sweaters over her head.

"What else was I supposed to do with them?" he says, shrugging.

On Scott's bed, Stiles grumbles and says something about 'stupid sleepovers'. He tosses Shay's phone over to her with a quick," You're in trouble." When she turns the screen on, there's at least five missed calls and fifteen texts. All from her mother. Shay feels her heart plummet.

"What am I gonna do?"

"We'll figure something out," Stiles says sullenly. "C'mon. Let's go before we're late."

.

.

.

Arriving at school, Shay sees her mother's car parked in the faculty spaces. Feeling both guilt and fear taking over her body, Shay lets Scott and Stiles hurriedly guide her into the school and to her first period.

"Try not to go crazy while we're gone," Stiles says, half joking and half serious.

"No promises," Shay replies. They both hug her before darting down the hall to their own class room.

Margo gives her a relieved smile when she walks into their first period, waving shyly from their corner.

"H-How are you feeling, Shay? Were you sick?"

Shay sees the entire night flash before her eyes. "Better. It was just… a small fever, or something."

Margo nods with a smile, passing her neat, color-coded math notes. Shay thinks that this girl is amazing. They'd only known each other for – what? A day or two? – and she's already saving her ass. Shay reaches over to playfully ruffle up Margo's hair, making the timid girl's face heat up.

The way Margo tries to keep up conversation and sits with her and the boys during their next two classes makes up for the angry look she gets from her mother as they run into with her in the halls.

"Shannon Jansen!" her mother cries when she catches sight of her. Scott, Stiles, and Margo all backpedal and huddle together as Shay faces her mother's anger. "Where were you this morning?! I ate breakfast alone and when I went to your room, you were gone!"

Shay holds up her hands in surrender, floundering as she scrambles for an excuse. "M-Mom! Don't freak, okay? Uh, see, I was, uh-"

"We picked her up!" Stiles puts in quickly, smiling at Beth Jansen when she fixes her eyes on him. "I did, actually. In my jeep, I mean. So that Mrs. McCall could look her over for, uh, lacrosse today!"

"Yeah, Mrs. Jansen," Scott insists, voice borderline desperate," you know how much lacrosse means to her! Stiles picked her up and brought her to my house so my mom could check her out to see if she could play. My mom said everything was okay, so…" He trails off, clearly out of ideas.

The only person left to speak stands just a little behind the three of them.

All sets of eyes land on Margo. She opens and closes her mouth, reddening under the stares. Beth looks at her and Margo forces a smile. "H-Hi. I'm M-Margo. I'm Shay's friend."

Her mother narrows her eyes for a moment before smiling and kissing her forehead. "My little goalie, making new friends! And a girl, no less. Finally! You should have told me! All this fussing for nothing. Next time just give me a heads up that you're leaving. You know I have no problem with you visiting Scott's house."

Shay gives her mother a nervous smile. "Yeah, sorry, mom. Just got caught up in the moment, I guess."

"I'm sure you'll do great at practice today, sweetie." Her mother pecks her head one last time before making shooing motions at the four of them. "Now, go on. Get to class. Knowledge is power."

"Yes, ma'am," Stiles salutes, making Beth laugh.

The day passes easily after that. Scott, Stiles, Shay, and Margo all sit beside each other in their shared classes, Shay pulling Margo to sit with them during lunch. She doesn't bring up how Margo insists on sitting at the very end of the cafeteria, the farthest table away from the one Jackson and his group are sitting at. From where she sits, she can still see him just fine, so she says nothing.

At the end of the day, Shay says goodbye to her mother with a promise to go straight home after practice. Margo also leaves, wishing the three of them luck before disappearing into the backseat of an expensive car. They wave at her until the car is gone, Stiles and Shay racing to the locker rooms as Scott goes to talk to Allison. The coach assures her angrily that no one else took her spot – "Everyone on this team sucks in comparison. Greenburg even tried to talk me into making him goalie, the idiot." The team greets her from the boys' locker room door way with smiles and waves. Even Jackson nods at her, although a little stiffly. Shay ignores the butterflies that explode in her stomach and smiles wide. She waves back at him happily. Stiles gags somewhere in the background as he grabs his pads.

Alone in the girl's locker room, Shay sits for a second on the bench, taking it all in. She's still on the team, still has that fluttering feeling for Jackson, still has Scott and Stiles right beside her. As she takes off her clothes and replaces it with the light yet sturdy lacrosse uniform, Shay promises that nothing will change. Just because she's changed doesn't mean the world has.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

She's the first out of the locker room. Shay makes for the door leading out to the field when she hears a faint, "Shay" coming from the other end of the hall. She turns at the sound of her name and sees Scott, still in his other lacrosse uniform. His eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly open, moving with unsaid words. He looks outright distraught. Shay jogs his way.

"Scottie? Hey, buddy, you okay?"

He continues to mouth inaudible words, eyes flickering to different spots on the floor. Shay reaches for his shoulder, shaking him just a little.

"Scott, what's wrong? Is everything okay with Allison?"

The mention of the other girl makes Scott blink and finally look up at Shay. His expression turns from worried to panicked.

" _No_." With that, he pushes past her and hurries into the boy's locker room. Shay continues to stand there, feeling a little worried herself now. Whatever happened with Allison Argent, it could not have been good.

 _Oh Scott._

* * *

[ **A/N:** Hey there! Welcome back and thanks for reading. Sorry this chapter is shorter than the first, but this is the second half of the first episode. Usually each chapter will be half an episode. Reviews mean the world to me!]


	3. Chapter 3

Wishing on Silver Linings

CHAPTER THREE

* * *

Out on the field, Shay can already feel the tension seeping into the air as Scott and Stiles jog out with the rest of the team.

Coach Finstock blows his whistle and orders everyone into positions. Shay tries to go and talk to Scott, who dazedly holds his stick like it's a life line, but Coach cuts in front of her, turning her back in the direction of the goalie net, and shoves lightly.

"You can chit chat with McCall later, Jansen. Hustle, hustle!" He turns back to the rest of the team. "Jackson, take a long stick today!"

For the most part things go as smoothly. Well, as smoothly as things go when a bunch of boys slam and trip each other in the name of sport. There are times when Shay wants to be out there, running around and shoving people's shoulders with her own. But then she sees the way it is – Greenberg taking a nasty tumble after being too slow to dodge a shove – and couldn't help but be grateful all she has to do is catch the balls. And, embarrassingly, admire Jackson as she does so.

As cliché as it sounds, Jackson Whittemore is basically the king of lacrosse. He's aggressive and quick, either an unmovable object or an unstoppable force. Only a sophomore and already team captain, Jackson gives it his all on the field, ready to remind all challengers who really rules lacrosse. Shay hates to admit it, but neither her nor Scott stand a real chance when going up against him.

Which is why it isn't so surprising that Scott gets his ass handed to him as he runs at Jackson. The sound of his body hitting the ground makes Shay flinch, an empathetic "ouch" unconsciously slipping out.

She hears the cocky way Jackson asks," You sure you still want to be first line, McCall?" As much as she adores him, Jackson's ego has always rubbed her the wrong way. Fighting off the urge to go and defend Scott, Shay looks to Stiles, waving her goalie stick until she gets his attention. She gestures to where Coach Finstock is hissing into Scott's ear from where he kneels on the ground, a clear _what's wrong with him_. All Stiles gives her are arched eyebrows and shrugged shoulders, his own way of saying _your guess is as good as mine_.

"McCall's gonna do it again," shouts the coach mockingly as both he and Scott straighten up. "McCall's gonna do it again."

Shay can't help the small "Scott, wait-!" that she lets out. At the coach's shushing wave her way, Shay bites her lip and gets back into her usual guarded position.

The speed that Scott runs at is impressive. But not as impressive as the brute way he collides with Jackson, taking their captain down with intense strength. Shay hears the wounded noise Jackson lets out as he hits the ground. Scott falls to his hands and knees right after him. Like the rest of the team, Shay abandons her position and runs to them.

Stiles and Shay crowd Scott as the rest of the team and the coach look over Jackson.

"Scott?" Stiles asks.

Shay holds his head steady by his helmet as Scott struggles with breathing evenly. "In and out, Scottie. Just like we've practiced."

"I can't control it, guys. I-It's happening." Scott makes a pained face as he shakes in their hands, body trembling. The hairs on the back of Shay's neck stand up; she has to fight to keep the urge to hiss at bay. Whatever werewolf stuff is happening to Scott, it's triggering something in her. The words _spidey-sense_ comes to mind.

 _Danger. Dangerdangerdanger._

Shay follows Stiles' lead as he throws one of Scott's arms over his shoulder; Shay takes the other. Together, they lead him away from the team, out of the field, and back into the locker room.

Unbeknownst to the three of them, familiar eyes watch as they go.

 **||/\\\||**

The three of them burst through the boys' locker room door like a hurricane, a tornado, and a wildfire. That is to say, messily. Scott falls to the ground again, pushing out of Stiles' and her grip as he literally growls. Before Shay knows it, her own body shakes and shifts, teeth aching with a stretch she has only felt within the past few days.

" _GET AWAY FROM ME!_ "

Yellow. Scott's eyes are glowing _yellow_.

Instinctively, Shay pushes Stiles behind her, making his back smack against the metal of the lockers. He scrambles to his feet and darts to the farthest wall as Shay meets Scott head on, grabbing him as he makes to chase Stiles.

The two of them snarl and tumble, rolling on the concrete ground, helmets butting with snapping teeth held back only by the helmets guard. Shay manages to kick Scott back into the sinks, the porcelain creaking with the force of it. Scott growls in pain before launching himself back at her. Shay barely dodges his hands, tripping and pushing him back onto the ground. With a particularly hard kick to her head, Shay's helmet flies off and her face hits the corner of the locker. In the seconds she's disoriented, Scott leaps up and tackles her, pulling her up by the shoulders only to slam her back down. The back of her skull makes a sick crack against the concrete.

It's only then that they are both suddenly sprayed with the harsh chill of a fire extinguisher.

Scott stumbles off her, blocking his face from the cold. It follows him, leaving Shay to catch her breath and blink away the dark spots that dot her vision.

"Stiles?" she calls, reaching out in front of her. A bare hand meets hers, yanking off the goalie glove and touching his palm to hers. The gesture is soothing. Shay closes her eyes as the aching at the back of her head pulses. "Scott?"

"Wh-What happened?" comes the disoriented voice of her best friend.

Shay shakes her head, hissing at the pain that shoots to the backs of her eyes. "You lost it."

"You tried to kill me," Stiles corrects bitterly. "It's like I was telling you before! If Shay hadn't been here to fight you off, I don't know what would have happened. And that was stupid, by the way, Shay. You could have been hurt!"

"I think I'm a little hurt right now," she groans. With her other hand, Shay tangles her fingers in her hair, feeling for any blood. Luckily, she finds none, just a sore spot.

Another hand reaches for her head, patting the sweaty hair back. Opening her eyes, Shay sees Stiles looking down at her, bright eyes filled with distress, with guilt. She tries to smile up at him, but the dots are still there.

"How did this happen?" Scott asks aloud.

Stiles answers without looking away from Shay's head. "It's your anger, your pulse rising. That's the trigger."

"But that's lacrosse! That's any sport out there."

Stiles lifts Shay's head up as he and Scott help her sit against the locker. The cool metal soothes away some of the burning ache. "Sports are violent. That's kind of the whole point."

"Well it's going to be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field. Or even in the locker room. Just look what happened!"

Shay takes a hold of the hand Stiles has on the side of her head. He meets her eyes, now alert and worried. She shakes her head and says to Scott," You can't play Saturday. What if this happens again? What if you lose it out on the field and I can't stop you?"

"What if you really hurt her?!" Stiles snaps. "What if you _both_ lose control? Shay's a werewolf too, Scott. What if next time neither of you know what's what or who's who?"

The confliction in Scott's eyes makes something akin to guilt bubble in Shay's chest. And when he says "B-But I'm first line!" Shay let's Stiles be the one to say," Not anymore."

.

.

.

They clean up after that. Stiles takes Shay into the girls' locker room as Scott stays in the boys' to mull over what they'd just told him. He helps carefully take off her pads and shirt, looking away as she pulls on her regular clothes from earlier that day. It hurts to move her head too fast.

"Maybe I have a concussion," she says. "Can werewolves get concussions?"

"No idea," Stiles answers, still looking away. "And, I don't know, Shay. You didn't look like Scott did."

"What do you mean? Also, you can look now."

He shrugs and sits beside her on the bench. "Scott looked wolfy. You looked more…"

"More?"

Stiles rubs his eyes. "I don't know – narrow. Does that make sense? Your eyes and your mouth-" He gestures to his face, scrunches up his nose, and squints.

Shay rests her head on the pad of his shoulder, focuses on breathing. When the silence becomes too much, Shay whispers," Who cares what I look like. That was scary."

Stiles lets out a shaky laugh. His fingers fidget and fiddle with his knee pad. "Yeah. Yeah, it was, wasn't it? But you didn't look afraid. I'm the one that ran for cover."

"You aren't like us, Stiles. You could have gotten hurt."

"But _you_ did." There's an angry edge to his words. Shay grabs his hand and squeezes.

"Not your fault, Stilinski. And it's not Scott's either. We just need to keep an eye on him."

Stiles pauses. "Then who's going to keep an eye on you?"

"You, of course. You have two eyes for a reason."

The laugh he lets out is easy in the tense air. "I'll drive you home."

"That would be great, Stiles."

.

.

.

Shay hugs Stiles tightly after he pulls up to her drive way. He lets her cling to him, rubbing her back and patting her side lightly when she's held on for too long.

"Call me tomorrow, okay," Shay tells him.

"Roger that."

Inside, Beth fusses over her daughter. "I've always hated that game. So rough, and you're so small! Are you sure you're okay, Shannon?"

Shay nods from where she lays on the couch. She has an icepack pressed against the back of her head, back and feet propped up on pillows. Leave it to her mother to go the extra mile when concerned. Beth tuts before going back into the kitchen to finish making dinner. Whatever it is, the smell is overwhelming.

"Just – run by me what happened again?" her mother calls from the kitchen.

"I told you mom," Shay sighs. "We were done for the day. I slipped in the locker room, wasn't wearing my helmet. No big deal."

Beth goes on to rattle about safety precautions and damaged brain cells. Dazedly, Shay realizes that her head stopped hurting hours ago, but to keep the icepack pressed against her head until the ice melts back into water. By then dinner is ready and her mother serves her dish in the living room, turning on the television for them both to watch. The smell she'd been smelling was spaghetti and meat balls. Her favorite.

"Mom, I'm not dying," Shay laughs.

"I don't know what you mean," her mother snips, smiling slyly as she takes a sip from her wine glass.

It's nice – to be there with her mom, watching bad TV while eating her favorite food. They haven't had a night in together for a long time. Shay lets herself relax into the cushions of the couch and listens to her mom's sarcastic commentary of the vampire movie that's showing.

"I've always preferred werewolves," she finds herself saying aloud. Irrational fear pokes at her ribs as she watches her mother's face closely.

Beth hums to herself. "Yeah, me too."

And she knows that her mom has no idea what she's getting at, but the heavy feeling in her chest lightens ever so slightly.

"Love you, mom."

"Oh, I love you more, sweetie."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Shannon Jansen!"

She can't help but let herself laugh until she chokes on a meat ball.

.

.

.

It's the draft that wakes her. Shay blinks her bleary eyes, mind still foggy with sleep, and fumbles for her phone. Clicking the screen on, the time reads three-thirty in the morning. It is way too early to even be remotely awake. She squints at the picture of her, Stiles, and Scott, groaning before clicking the screen off.

In the black of the glass, Shay sees it. Her entire body freezes, heart stuttering to a halt as

 _It's a dream, it's all a dream. There isn't a man standing by my window. There isn't, there isn't. It's a dream, it's a –_

"Shay," comes a voice. "I know you're awake. And I know you know I'm here."

Heart lurching, Shay curls tighter into a ball under her covers. She wants to scream for her mom but knows that her mother isn't equipped to deal with intruders. Especially intruders that are werewolves.

"Shay," snaps the voice of Derek Hale.

"G-Go away."

The blanket is yanked from above her and thrown down onto the floor. Instantly Shay is up and off her bed, grabbing at the lacrosse stick that sits by her night stand. Derek looks unfazed at her weapon of choice, walking closer and pushing it down as he crowds her against the wall. Shay's heart races wildly as they share the same breathing space, panic and fear and anger twisting her stomach. This is it – Derek Hale is going to kill her or worse. In a moment of sheer panic, Shay opens her mouth to scream, but Derek covers her mouth with his hand, pressing down until she closes it.

"Do not scream," he orders in a terrifying growl. "All you're going to do is listen, understand?"

Shay blinks the tears in her eyes away and nods frantically.

Derek searches her face for a moment before retracting his hand, taking a step back but remains close enough to keep Shay on edge.

"Do not let Scott McCall play on Saturday. You shouldn't play either, but he's more of a liability than you are. Do not let your friend go out onto that field, Shay. Because if he gets me found out, I'm going to kill him. And if you try to stop me, then I'll kill you too."

His hand goes for her face again. This time Shay can't help but shut her eyes and let a small shout slip past her clenched teeth. But nothing touches her. She blinks and all that's left of Derek Hale is an open window, curtain billowing softly with the nighttime wind. Shay counts to twenty before she dares to let out a breath. When nothing happens, she makes a dash for the window, slamming it closed and locking it shut. Heart racing, Shay grabs for her phone and calls the one person she knows would be awake at this hour.

He answers on the second ring. "Shay?"

"Stiles," she gasps out, clutching at her chest. "Stiles, he was here. Derek was in my house. He came into my _room_!"

The noise Stiles lets out can only be described as frustrated. "Yeah, he paid Scott a visit earlier. He was really insistent on Scott not playing on Saturday."

"And you guys didn't think to share that very important detail with me?!"

"We didn't think he'd break into _your_ house! It's Scott that's not dealing with everything well right now. And…well…"

"And well what, Stiles?"

"Scott doesn't think you want to talk to him. Because of the, uh, whole locker room thing."

That makes the words already coming out of Shay's mouth stop. After everything, Shay had let Stiles lead her out of the school and into the parking to his Jeep. The drive was quiet, Stiles only talking to check up on how her head was doing. At one point, she had started to doze, but Stiles said she couldn't, poking her cheek until she opened her eyes again. She hadn't texted or called Scott, hadn't even called Stiles to ask if he knew anything about Jackson either. For a second, Shay feels bad for cutting him off for the night.

"That's not true," she ends up saying softly.

Stiles sighs. "Yeah, I know. But you're going to have to tell him that. He's sure you hate him now."

"I don't think I could hate him, even if I tried."

"Yeah, me neither."

Shay hums to herself before asking, "Speaking of Scott, how are things with him and Allison? I haven't heard him talk about her since the party."

With a groan Stiles says," Not good, Shay. Not good. Scott found out that the hunters in the woods that night, get this, weren't just any hunters. The main one was _Allison's father_."

Instantly Shay sits up. "Shut up, no way!"

"Yes way."

"Oh no, poor Scott. Wait, does Allison know about werewolves and stuff?"

"He says he doesn't think so. I wouldn't doubt it if Argent told her, though. This just makes everything more complicated."

They're quiet for a few moments, the only sound going through the line is their breathing. Shay grabs at her blanket from the floor and curls up at the foot of her bed, holding the phone close to her ear. "What are we going to do, Stiles?"

"Not let Scott play. Keep him from revealing you two to his girlfriend's dad."

"And me? Do I play?"

"Depends. You aren't the one with bad impulse control lately. The only times you've really lost it are when I snuck up on you and when Scott loses control, but it's like you only do to stop him or make sure he doesn't hurt anybody. Maybe you shouldn't, just in case he loses control outside of lacrosse too."

Shay hums distractedly.

"Get some sleep, Shay," Stiles says, soft in a way she's only heard a few times. Shay hears just how tired he is, how worried.

"You first, Stilinski."

"Not all of us can just knock out like you and Scott can." There's a silence that lasts longer than Shay is comfortable with. "You'll talk to Scott, right?"

Shay closes her eyes, breathing in deep through her nose. "Yeah, Stiles. I'll talk to him."

"Good. We need to stay a team. I can't take care of you both by myself."

He has been taking care of them, is the thing. Shay doesn't like it. She doesn't like that Stiles has to run around after her as she chases after Scott. It used to be the opposite – the way they work is Stiles drags Scott around and Shay is pulled along by Scott. That's how their friendship has always been. All of this must be weighing down on Stiles, even if he won't say it.

"You don't have to take care of me, Stiles," she says. "I'll manage."

Stiles lets out a scoff. "Uh-huh. Sure."

"Goodnight, Batman."

"Night, Wonder Woman."

 **||/\\\||**

Shay corners Scott the next day at school right as he's about to run away from her. Faster than the fumbling boy, Shay takes a hold of his elbow and steers him to a semi-deserted hall, free of listening ears. The way he won't look at her makes Shay soften her grip from demanding to comforting. Scott must sense the change, finally glancing at her from beneath his fringe.

"Stiles says you think I hate you," she claims evenly.

Scott lets out a quiet "Dammit, Stiles" before closing his mouth and shrugging. Shay tips her head back to let out a drawn-out sigh, over dramatism at its finest display. While Scott scuffs his shoe awkwardly on the floor, Shay curls her arm around his neck and pulls him down, rubbing her knuckles against his skull.

"Shay! Cut it out!"

"Not until you get that stupid idea out of your head!"

"Okay, okay! It's out, it's out!"

Laughing, she lets him go, though keeps him close. Scott rushes to fix his already untidy hair and sends her a weak look. Shay pats down his puffy hair with a smile.

"How could I ever hate you, Scottie? Like, really?"

"I know. It's just-… I could have hurt you."

Shay pokes his chest. "And I could have hurt you back. But I didn't. And neither did you. We just have to learn to manage all of this. I don't blame you, Scott."

For a few seconds, Scott is quiet, taking in her words. Eventually he nods and pulls her in for a hug. Shay lets him, patting his back in a way she hopes helps. The looks people give them makes her cheeks heat and roll her eyes, but for Scott's sake she lets him drag the hug out as long as he wants. When he does let go, Shay puts a hand on both of his shoulders to look him square in the eye.

"Ready for the hardest part of today?"

Scott swallows thickly and hesitates before nodding. Together, they walk down the hall to what may be their demise.

.

.

.

To say that telling the coach they both wouldn't be playing at tomorrow's game goes horrible would be the understatement of the year.

Looking at Scott and Shay with his wide, wild eyes, the coach gestures at the space between them – or, more specifically, the lack there of. Shay glances down at where her knuckles touch Scott's. Oh no.

"Are you both ditching the game to go on, what, a date? Is this what this is about?"

Scott's eyes go as wide as Coach Finstock's. "Wh-What? No-!"

"Coach, please," Shay begs, exasperated.

"If not a date, then what? Night in together? Study session? I can't believe I'm saying this, but no dating in the team, McCall, Jansen."

"Coach, we aren't dating!" Shay finally fumes, cheeks heated and overall embarrassed. "Scott is having trouble with controlling his anger. If he plays, he might, well, get too angry."

Coach leans back, arms crossed as he shakes his head. "That's why you play lacrosse! Problem solved!"

Scott shakes his head. With clenched hands, he urges," Coach, I can't play tomorrow!"

That's when Coach Finstock finally stands from where he'd been sitting on his desk. Shay and Scott both take steps back, but their backs hit the wall and then Coach is right there. Shay doesn't like the way he points his finger at the two of them, pressing it close enough Shay can feel the stinging accusation behind it.

"Listen, McCall. Playing first line is taking on the responsibility of first line. Now if you can't handle that, then you're back on the bench until you're ready. And you, Jansen," Shay bites her lip to keep from flinching," are going to play tomorrow because this team needs their goalie. If you ditch, you're benched."

"Coach-"

"Benched," Coach Finstock points at Scott," or play," points to Shay.

"If we don't play, you're benching us?" Scott says, incredulous.

Getting in close, Finstock widens his eyes impossibly more. " _Play the game_."

The two of them dash out of the office as quick as they can when he dismisses them. Shay rubs her face with both hands as she and Scott walk down the halls, defeatedly. Scott's phone rings and, when he looks at it, he groans. Shay nudged him to show her. It's a text from his mom, telling him that she was able to get the night off to go see him play. Shay groans.

"You're so lucky your mom never goes to the games," Scott says.

"Yeah, but only because she's afraid to witness my death even though I told her I'm goalie and not getting pummeled."

"Yeah, well-"

Right as they turn to go up the stairs, a familiar smile and dark hair interrupts them. Shay feels instantly awkward as Scott and Allison make goo-goo eyes at each other. With Allison Argent, lingering just a little behind her, Margo clutches at two thick books. Margo smiles as she notices Shay beside Scott, lifting up two fingers from under her books to wave. Shay grins at her quiet friend. Allison's smile wavers, however, the second she sees Shay.

"I'll, uh," Shay clears her throat, already squeezing past them," see you in class, Scottie."

She barely sees his wave as she zips away, grabbing ahold of Margo's shoulder and hoping that whatever those two talk about, it won't lead to disaster.

.

.

.

In English, Shay and Margo sit side by side toward the back. Shay finds out that one of the books Margo is carrying is their class textbook. The other, for her own nerdy pleasure.

"Reading's fun," Margo defends lightly. "And this one is a classic."

Shay stops playing catch with the textbook like it didn't weigh almost four pounds, grabbing the smaller novel in her hands. The cover is plain, a moss green with black lettering. Frankenstein by Mary Shelly. Shay fights off the twitch that tingles at the corner of her eye.

"Frankenstein, huh?"

"I-I like stuff like this."

"Oh, yeah?" Shay asks distractedly. "What, like vampires and ghosts and witches and stuff?"

"Don't forget werewolves," Margo puts in, obviously trying to be funny. Shay spares her and chuckles, ignoring the rise in her pulse. Margo goes on to say," My dad used to be a big fan of classic horror movies? So, I would watch them with him and read the books by myself. He doesn't watch the movies anymore, b-but I still read the books. My sister, she was never into this stuff like I was."

"She sounds lame," Shay replies. "Monsters are cool."

The smile Margo gives her is soft and genuine. "Yeah, they are."

It's only after class that Shay remembers what she had wanted to ask Margo. As the bell rings shrilly in her ears, Shay leads Margo out into the hallway, pressed against a locker to keep from getting pushed by the waves of other teens hurrying to their classes. Margo looks surprised when Shay asks about Allison.

"What about her?" Margo asks, confused.

"How'd you meet her? She hangs with Lydia Martin, and last time I checked, Lydia really spooked you out."

A faint hue of red dusts across Margo's nose. Her mouth pulls into a little frown. "W-We met at Lydia's party? And I have Allison for two of my classes and she's nice. Lydia is there in one of them, but Allison always waves at me."

Shay raises an eyebrow at her friend, taking in the reality that the poor girl had made a friend out of the claimed best friend of Lydia Martin. That couldn't be the greatest feeling in the world. But wait-

"You were at that party? Didn't we just establish that Lydia is no good?"

"I-I was invited, Shay. I couldn't say no."

"Of course, you could have. Who invited you?"

When Margo doesn't elaborate, Shay's eyes go round. Hunching just a little to make eye contact with Margo's green orbs from behind thick frames, she pokes at Margo's shoulder. The brunette looks to the floor.

"Did _Lydia Martin_ invite you?"

For a few seconds, Margo says nothing. And then she nods. A small movement of her neck, so subtle Shay almost didn't see it.

" _Whaaat_? How even-"

Above them, the bell rings over the hall speakers. Margo moves from where Shay had unconsciously crowded her against the locker, slipping past her but not running away. She waits until Shay gets her bearings back and together, they head off to lunch. Shay doesn't pry anymore about Lydia Martin. It's clear that not everything is as black and white as the world makes it seem. Still…

"Did you have fun at the party at least?" Shay asks, using a bright tone to keep things relaxed.

Margo shrugs a shoulder as they walk. "I didn't stay very long. Maybe only for an hour and a half."

"Meet any cute boys there?"

Margo's face goes beet red and had Shay not become a werewolf, she wouldn't have heard the very, very quiet mumble of," He's not a boy."

"Oh, so a girl then?"

"No!" Margo sputters, laughing a little. "I just meant, well, he's… not our age."

That grabs Shay's attention. "What, like a college student?"

"Maybe. I didn't ask."

Huh. It's always the quiet ones, it seems. Shay can only pat Margo on the back and tell her to make smart decisions (to which Margo's face goes redder than Shay's ever seen). When Margo asks about if Shay had gone, Shay laughs it off awkwardly, telling her friend that her and Stiles had to go pick up Scott early since he had gotten "food poisoning or something".

"So that's what Allison was talking about," Margo says to herself.

"What do you mean?"

"She'd mentioned how you and Scott had run out of the party together. I'll be honest, she thought you guys were a thing for a second. I told her you weren't."

"We aren't," Shay assures her. "Promise. Jackson Whittemore is the only one for me."

"Lydia's boyfriend?"

"For now," Shay says slyly. Margo laughs and they get in line for their food.

Scott and Stiles are sitting there at lunch, waiting for them. Scott greets them glumly while Stiles grumbles under his breath, moving his tray over so Margo can put hers down. The extra glance he sends her way has Shay kicking his knee with her foot not so gently. He yelps but at the surprised look Margo gives him, Stiles waves it off, covering his mouth with a hand and glaring at Shay as she smiles.

"Scottie, how'd it go with your girlfriend?" Shay asks him.

At the withering look Stiles send Scott's way, Shay's smile vanishes. "What, what is it?"

"Allison," Scott starts," she invited me on a date, sort of. But -"

"But she told him that it was a double date with Lydia and Jackson and she told him to invite me! Now he wants me to go just to rub it in my face that Lydia still hasn't noticed me." With that, Stiles finishes his rant in a huff, crosses his arms, and looks somewhere off to his left. Scott stays quiet, staring down at his tray before meeting Shay's gaze with a sheepish smile and shrug.

"She's also going to watch me play on Saturday?"

That makes Stiles turn, fuming. "That too!"

Shay glances at Margo and says," That's…nice of her."

"But he shouldn't be playing," Stiles urges through clenched teeth. "Not with his _condition_."

"Oh," Margo says," are you sick, Scott?"

"No, just…anger management issues," he supplies easily, glancing at Shay and Stiles for approval.

Shay rubs her forehead and Stiles drops his head against the cafeteria table. Margo looks at them all with a big, flashing question mark over her head, but she only nods, assures Scott that with the right breathing exercises he would be okay. At the muffled scream that comes from Stiles' smooshed face, Margo laughs and calls him all funny.

.

.

.

Shay meets Scott at his locker after the bell rings. He fumbles with is locker combination, clearly on edge. After watching him struggle with it for three more minutes, Shay gently nudges him out of the way and plugs it in for him, twisting the dial with ease. Scott smiles thankfully and doesn't even bother to question how she knows his locker combination when he can't even remember it.

"Things are looking pretty impossible, huh, Scottie?"

Scott sighs, shoulders drooping in what looks like defeat. "For real."

"Want to hear something depressing?" Shay asks, leaning against the lockers.

"What?"

"My mom texted me. She wants to come to the game."

Scott slams his locker closed with an agape mouth. "What? No way!"

Shay tilts her head back to stare at the bright lights on the ceiling. "Yup. The one game I shouldn't even go to and she's coming. Go figure."

Right as Scott opens his mouth again, they are both pulled frantically by the collars of their shirts. Stiles pushes them to the stairwell where they hide just out of sight. He gestures to two men standing a little further down the hall, who are talking in serious voices. When Shay looks closer, she sees Sheriff Stilinski, all serious faced and crossed arms. In the time that she's known Stiles and come to call him her best friend, she's never seen him like this in person, only hearing from Stiles about his "strict cop" expressions.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" Stiles presses, leaning his face between Shay and Scott's.

Scott and Shay share a look before they concentrate. Scott stares at the men. Shay tilts her head and listens.

" _I want everyone under the age of eighteen to be in their houses by nine-thiry. We'd like to institute the curfew effective immediately._ "

"Curfew because of the body," Scott says to Stiles.

The boy huffs, face twisting sourly. "Unbelievable. My dad's out looking for an animal when that girl's killer is somewhere right now, hanging out doing whatever he wants!"

Shay shakes her head. "We can't tell him the truth about Derek, Stiles."

"I can do something."

"Like what?" Scott asks.

"Find the other half of the body," Stiles answers simply, expression letting Shay know he's already made up his mind.

"Stiles, that's nuts!"

Scott agrees with a "Are you kidding?"

Stiles says nothing more, already walking away down the hall with hurried and determined steps. Shay calls out to him but he only waves distractedly before disappearing around a corner. She knows that whatever he's planning, her and Scott are going to somehow get dragged into it. _Like_ _always_. Exasperated, Shay turns to ask Scott about what he thinks about everything when the space beside her is empty and Scott is down the hall, talking to Allison. Not wanting to get in the middle of that again, Shay turns and walks away.

She doesn't get far.

In the blink of an eye, Shay finds herself being dragged by the elbow out of school and to the parking lot.

"Scott, what the hell?"

"I need you to come with me to the Hale house. I might lose it."

"Scott, what-"

"He's been talking to Allison!" Scott finally shouts, whirling at her. Shay backs up a step, startled. "What if it was Jackson? What if some crazy killer werewolf was after Jackson? Wouldn't you do anything to make Derek stay away?"

He doesn't give her time to answer, hoping on his bike and waiting for her to take her spot on the bars. Shay can only groan as she climbs on, holding on to his shoulders as Scott speeds away from the school and into the preserve.

.

.

.

Derek Hale is terrifying.

Watching as Scott yells and raves at Derek about Allison, Shay stands five steps behind him, close to his discarded bike. The house in front of her is burned and ruined, ash covering most of the wood that's still standing. A strong sadness eats at her heart as she watches Derek walk across the porch, biting back at Scott's yelling with calm anger. She can only imagine him coming back to this place, remembering his family. Despite the obvious creepiness that hangs over him like a dark cloud, Shay can feel the sadness.

When Derek disappears right before their eyes, Shay tugs at Scott's sleeve. "C'mon, Scottie. Let's go."

Scott only turns to ask her," Do you smell it?"

Shay stares at him in confusion before closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. When she smells it, her eyes widen and Scott gestures to a mound of overturned dirt.

Under the dirt pile, the scent of blood lingers.

.

.

.

They tell Stiles about the blood and Derek when he comes barreling into Scott's house, tripping over himself as he storms into Scott's room. Shay barely catches him right as he's about to face plant on the floor. Instead of thanking her, Stiles clutches at her shirt, looking between her and Scott hurriedly.

"Where did you find it? And, yes, I've had a lot of Adderall, so…" He blinks his eyes repeatedly, pupils wide and dark. Shay rubs his shoulders worriedly.

"I found something at Derek Hales," Scott answers evenly.

Stiles visibly jumps, gesturing wildly for him to go on. "Are you kidding? What? What'd you find?"

"In the dirt," Shay says," there's upturned dirt. The scent of blood is there."

"That's awesome!" At the too rough squeeze Shay gives him, Stiles backtracks," I mean, that's terrible. Whose blood?"

"We don't know," Shay says.

Scott stands, zips up his sweater as a look takes over his face. It's similar to the one Stiles gets when he's got a plan or an idea stuck in his head and he can't let go.

"But when we do, your dad nails Derek for the murder and then you help me figure out how to play lacrosse without changing. Because there's no way I'm not playing that game."

"Guys-" Shay tries but the two boys are already talking amongst each other, stepping out of the room. For a second she stands there, feeling lost. Something doesn't sit right with her, like something about this whole situation isn't right. She doesn't have Scott's pursuit for resolve, doesn't seem to be lacking control like he is. A niggling feeling in the back of her head has a pressure building up between her eyes. She look out of Scott's window, towards the woods. Unconsciously, she takes a step toward the window.

"Shay?"

Stiles' voice snaps her out of whatever sort of trance had swallowed her. Shay blinks for a minute, regaining her bearings, before she turns to him. The questioning look in his eyes make the hazel shine brighter. Since when did Stiles have such nice eyes?

"Coming," she breathes out. He smiles and jogs back down stairs, only stopping to peak back up at her when she doesn't immediately follow.

With one more glance outside, Shay walks out of Scott's room and follows her two best friends out of the house to do whatever it is they're planning to do.

 **||/\\\||**

At the hospital, Shay and Stiles agree to keep watch outside while Scott goes in to sneak into the morgue. Scott looks to Shay with a _really? You're gonna let me go in alone?_ sort of look. Shay only replies with "Someone has to keep an eye on Stiles." Stiles indignant cry is ignored by both of them as Scott slips through the door and Shay leans against it as it closes.

Stiles wonders over to lean against the front desk while Shay takes a seat on one of the uncomfortable hospital waiting room chairs. She notices the increased race of Stiles' heart as he scrubs wildly at his face, looking somewhere torn between desperate and determined. Shay narrows her eyes as he leans "seductively" against the wall, arm bent and swipes his tongue against his bottom lip nervously.

"Stiles?"

"Hey, Lydia," Stiles greets awkwardly, completely ignoring Shay's worried voice.

 _Oh god, she's here? But if she's here…does that mean Jackson is, too?_

"You probably don't remember me," Stiles continues," but I, uh, sit behind you biology? Anyway, I always thought we had this sort of connection-"

Shay winces in her seat. _Stop while you're ahead, Stiles_.

"-unspoken, of course. Maybe it would be kind of cool to, uh, get to know each other a little better."

"Hold on, give me a second," comes the high pitch voice of Lydia Martin. Funny, doesn't sound like she's talking to Stiles. Until she says," Yeah, I didn't get any of what you said. Is it worth repeating?"

 _Ouch. Pure murder_.

Shay looks at Stile's face as he stumbles to speak. Eventually he swallows and says no, sorry. He backs away and almost tumbles into Shay's lap, saving himself by sinking into the seat beside her. Shay immediately throws an arm over his shoulder and tugs him close, pressing the sides of their heads together. Stiles says nothing, just breathes in and out deeply. He may not say it, but Shay can tell that the way Lydia had dismissed him hurt his feelings.

A few minutes pass by in silence, the only sounds around them being the noises of the hospital. Shay hears the click clack of Lydia's heels touching the floor as she gets up and walks. Shay peaks over and sees why: Jackson, rubbing his shoulder with a tired expression.

"Did he do it?" Lydia demands.

Jackson continues to rub at his shoulder as he says," He said not to make a habit of it, but one cortisone shot won't kill me."

"You should get one right before the game, too. The pros do it all the time." Lydia advises sharply. Anger burns through Shay's veins, hot and pulsing, at the way Lydia completely dismisses the obvious pain Jackson must be in, what with how he hasn't let go of his limb yet.

It only gets worse as Lydia goes on, bringing Jackson down with every biting word she says. Shay can see that Jackson's patience becomes thinner and thinner as he silently takes in her words, like knives to his ego. Right as it looks like he's about to snap, Shay finds herself half standing, half still in her chair. The only reason she hasn't stormed over to give Lydia a piece of her mind is because of the arm that's circled around her waist, strong and comforting.

"Shay," Stiles says urgently," come on. Look, he's fine. Calm down, Shay."

Her anger evaporates at the smooth smirk that forms on Jackson's face as he kisses Lydia deeply. He pulls her in close and, for a split second, his eyes open just a bit to meet Shay's own. It feels like the world is exploding around her, looking Jackson directly in the eye as he makes out with his girlfriend. But then he closes his eyes and seconds later he and Lydia are gone, happily trotting out of the hospital together. Shay stares after then, feeling a sharp stab at her heart. Stiles, behind her, exhales with sympathy.

"Shay-"

"What are you guys doing?" The two of them jump at the sudden sound of Scott's voice.

It's then that Shay realizes that Stiles is still holding on to her – rather intimately, she might add. Stiles clears his throat and lets her go, Shay readjusting her shirt with a frown.

"What'd you find, Scotty?" she asks, not bothering to answer his question.

"The scent was the same."

"You sure?" asks Stiles.

" _Yes_."

Stiles stands, hands on hips, as he leans closer to Scott to ask," So he did bury the other half of the body on his property?"

"Which means we have proof he killed the girl," Shay puts in, though the words taste awful as they come out of her mouth.

Stiles nods, agreeing. "I say we use it." He starts walking at a fast pace towards the hospital exit. Scott and Shay hurry to catch up.

"How?" Scott asks him.

Stiles doesn't answer, though. Instead, he turns on his heel, almost bumping into Scott, and asks," Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play in the game and he said you couldn't?"

The question impresses Shay for a second. For Stiles, it's always been about stopping Derek. For Shay, it's always been about keeping everyone safe. For Scott, however – things tend to get blurry.

Scott defends himself, saying," There were bite marks on her legs, Stiles. _Bite marks_!"

It doesn't answer his question, but Stiles nods anyway. "Then we're gonna need a shovel."

He loops his arms around both Shay and Scott as they walk out of the hospital. Shay doesn't bother to tell them how uneasy all this makes her feel. She's sure they feel the same way.

.

.

.

Late at night, the trio watches from a distance as Derek creeps out of his house and into his expensive Camaro.

"Where do you think he's going?" Shay wonders aloud.

"Who cares," Stiles snaps, starting up the jeep engine," let's go."

They take down the shovels and flashlights, walking close together as they head towards the house. Shay breathes in deeply, searching for the metallic scent of blood. She finds it, but this time there's something else with it.

"Scott, do you-"

"Yeah," he interrupts, sniffing the air," I do."

"Well I don't," Stiles cuts in. "What's up?"

"It's different. I don't know how." Scott shakes his head. "Let's just get this over with."

And with that, they begin to shovel.

Who knows how long they stay out there. With every lift of the shovel, Shay can feel the subtle ache of her muscles – which is surprising, given how they've been at it for so long and she's barely feeling anything. Stiles, beside her, huffs and sweats, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. She tells him to take a break but he waves her off. Maybe he just doesn't want to feel inadequate.

Eventually, Scott's nerves give out. Without stopping, he says," This is taking too long. What if he comes back?"

"Just keep digging," is all that Stiles says.

"What if he catches us?" Scott presses.

"I have a plan for that," Stiles replies easily.

Shay throws a pile of dirt on the mound she'd created. "Which is what, Stiles?"

"You run one way, Scott runs another, and I run the other. Whoever he catches first, too bad."

"You know that's going to be you, right?" Shay grunts. "We're the werewolves here. You're the rabbit."

Stiles glares at her, angrily shoving his shovel into the dirt. At the _thunk_ he hears, he automatically pushes at Scott and Shay's shovels, stopping them. The three of them toss away the shovels and begin to attack the dirt ground with their hands, frantically digging away. A flash of fear runs down Shay's spine at the thought of seeing that girl's face again – the blank eyes, the open mouth. She pushes past the sudden tightness in her stomach and keeps going, if only to get some sort of justice for the dead girl in the ground.

The knots they find are tied together with skill, too tight to just pull open. it takes them a second before they can loosen them and open the bag. And when they open it, they all scream.

Like instinct, Shay is pushing the boys out of the hole, scrambling to get out after them. Stiles and Scott pull her up by the arms. She lands on her side next to Stiles. Gripping the front of his t-shirt, she hisses out," What the shit is that?!"

"A wolf," Scott gasps out.

"I though you said you smelled blood, as in _human_ blood," Stiles snaps.

"We told you something was different."

Shay shakes her head, whispering," This doesn't make any sense."

"Let's just get out of here. Help me cover this up."

Shay and Scott get to work pushing dirt back into the hole. Stiles doesn't. He stares off at the ground. Shay pinches him. "What is it?"

"See that flower?" he asks, pointing at a purple flower a few feet away. "I think it's wolfsbane."

"Like in the Wolfman?" Shay asks.

He nods and hops up, pulling at the flower, which is the rope they'd been untying earlier in the hole. Stiles follows it back to the hole, going in a weird circle pattern the further down it goes. Shay watches from the side as Scott and Stiles walk around, pulling the rope as they go.

And when Scott goes still, Shay's heart leaps.

"Stiles?" he says, staring down into the hole.

"H-Holy-!"

And when Stiles goes still, Shay's entire body moves to see what they found.

She wishes she hadn't. She wishes that it had still been the corpse of a wolf. Not the corpse of the dead girl that's been haunting Shay's dreams.

.

.

.

Somewhere in Beacon Hills, a Derek Hale parks his car in front of a diner that never closes. Looking out of the windshield, he spots a figure seated by a window. The scowl that so often feels permanent on his face drops into something softer as he steps out of his Camaro and into the diner.

* * *

[ **A/N:** Salutations to all my beautiful readers! First things first: Izi Wilson, darling, you are so wonderful. Thank you so much for reviewing. Second: kisses and hugs to all of you that favorited and followed this silly story of mine. I love you all! Lastly: to the guest that mentioned the possibility of a Derek/OC – your answer will come soon enough. Please, if you're reading, please review! It means the world to me. 3]


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